


more than words (is all you have to do to make it real)

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [12]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Gen, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-09 05:10:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12880845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: Waverly slaps her hand down over the dashboard clock. “I just need five minutes. Maybe less if you decide you want to wear a tux, because then we would only have to match your cummerbund to my dress.” She tips her head to the side. “Unless you wanted a vest? Because I saw the vests at the Sears…” She trails a finger down Nicole’s front. “You would look good in either.”Nicole laughs. “Why would I need to match anything to your dress?”Waverly pauses for a second. “For prom,” she says slowly.





	1. then you couldn't make things new, just by saying 'i love you'

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ: The 'Mature' rating does not apply to this Side, but Side B (coming next week). 
> 
> This is, obviously, posted in two parts: Side A (then you couldn't make things new, just by saying 'i love you') and Side B.
> 
> Today's Flashback Friday features some feelings you didn't see coming, some feelings you were hoping for, and some feelings you were thinking you could forget.
> 
> This takes place in the spring of 1990, around Waverly's senior prom. Nicole is 19 and Waverly is 18.

**“More Than Words” Extreme, 1990  
** _ All you have to do is close your eyes, and just reach out your hands, and touch me. Hold me close, don’t ever let me go. _

“Come on, Haught. We’re drawing straws for Prom Duty.”

Nicole looks up from her desk, marking her spot in the new Accident Prevention Plan binder she’s reading through. She turns down the little desk radio Waverly bought her after her graduation from the academy, a small Advance Model 4040 with a digital clock face and a decent FM signal. “Under the Bridge” by Red Hot Chili Peppers is playing, and when she lowers the volume, she catches Pine singing along.

“What?” she asks as she takes a long sip of her coffee. She winces; it’s cold. She’ll have to make some more.

Diaz and Pine snort. Lonnie nods excitedly. “Prom Duty. We pull straws to see who gets stuck on patrol, scooping up drunk high school kids and calling their parents.”

Nicole frowns, tipping her head to the side as she tries to remember if anyone from her senior class ever came back to school after prom complaining about having their parents called, but she’s not sure.

“What year did you graduate, again?” Diaz asks, turning in his chair and reaching for his desk drawer. “We keep a list of everyone we bust.”

“Uh, last year. ‘89,” she says, leaning across her desk to snatch the small notebook out of his hands. She flips through it. It starts at 1985. She scans it, recognizing some names. When she gets to 1987, she snorts. “Ha. Nathan got caught? I remember him the morning after. He looked like he got run down by a school bus.”

Diaz leans back in his seat, kicking his feet up onto his desk. “ _ I’m _ the one who called your mom. She was more pissed than that time you accidently ate Linda’s tuna sandwich.”

Linda spins around at in her chair at the counter. “That was your fault for switchin’ the Tupperwares. Don’t think I don’t know what you did. Get your feet off the desk, Carlos Diaz.” She waits until he drops his feet, his cheeks flushed. “If I remember correctly, you spent your own prom night sitting here waiting for your mama.”

Nicole laughs into her hand. She keeps turning the pages. She finds Mercedes’s name in the 1988 pages easily, in Lonnie’s sloppy handwriting. She turns to 1989 and scans through the list of kids she graduated with. Wynonna’s name isn’t there, but only because Nicole had driven her home. 

Nicole shudders when she remembers how Wynonna  _ barely _ got herself out of the car before she ralphed everywhere. 

Champ’s name is there, though, which isn’t surprising. And the York brothers are listed, a ‘2 FOR 1’ written next to their names. She remembers Pete getting invited by some girl who didn’t know any better. 

“Surprised we never picked you up, Haught,” Pine teases. He throws a balled up piece of paper across the room towards a trashcan.

Nicole snorts when he misses. “Well, you wouldn’t have. I didn’t go.”

Pine’s next shot goes wide. He stares at her with wide eyes. “What do you mean you didn’t go? It’s  _ prom _ . In  _ Purgatory. Everyone _ goes.”

“Not me,” Nicole says, scooping Pine’s paper ball up off the floor. She hooks it over one shoulder, but her shot is short. She looks around for someone to laugh at her, but everyone is staring at her, wide-eyed.

“And that girl of yours was fine missing prom?” Linda asks.

Nicole shrugs, twisting side to side to crack her back. “We weren’t really dating yet.” She looks up, but everyone is still staring at her. “Oh, come on.”

Linda is the first one to look away, turning back to her station and pulling her headset back over her ears. “I coulda sworn you two had been together your whole lives.”

Pine shakes his head. “You  _ definitely _ need to work Prom Duty, then. Get the full experience.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “You just want me to do it because you don’t like working nights.”

“Damn right,” Pine agrees. “And you know Diaz has been trying to get a date with Mercedes Gardner.”

Nicole feels her face burn as she remembers that day at the Triangle, when Mercedes leaned over and kissed her. She leans against her desk, a hand planted firm on the surface. It’s been nearly two years, but Nicole hasn’t thought all that much about Mercedes. She thinks she might have gone out to the city, to school. She reminds herself to ask Wynonna later.

“Girl rolled back into town lookin’ like Olivia Newton-John at the end of that movie,” Diaz says, his eyes glazing over. “I let her out of a parking ticket last week, so I think my odds are pretty good.”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “You know that’s not how that works, right?”

Diaz blinks. “What?”

“You can’t do a girl a favor and expect to get something in return. Especially a date.”

“No, I just meant,” Diaz starts.

Nicole shakes her head firmly. “You let her out of a parking ticket, that’s a call you make. She doesn’t owe you a date now.” She lowers her voice. “Do you understand me, Diaz?”

“I, uh-”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Diaz sputters. “Yeah. Okay.”

Nicole nods sharply. “If I find out-”

Diaz puts his hands up in surrender. “You won’t. I won’t. She’s kind of… intimidating, anyway,” he mumbles, only loud enough for her to hear.

Silently, Nicole agrees with him.

“This isn’t a frat house,” Nedley huffs from his office door.

They all snap to attention. Nicole’s hand slips off her desk, coming down hard on her Accident Prevention Plan binder. It flips into the trashcan by her desk. Her face burns as she pulls it back out, flicking leftover tuna off the cover.

“Diaz, Pine. Get the patrol routes together. We’re going to do our mid-month switch. Haught,” he says, crooking his finger in her direction. “My office.”

Nicole holds her Accident Prevention Plan to her chest and weaves through the desks and around a table, stopping in front of Nedley’s office door. He’s already sitting back behind his desk, scribbling something on the notepad in front of him.

“Close the door,” he says without looking up.

She shuts it behind her and hovers nervously around the chair in front of Nedley’s desk. She’s been on the job for nearly six months now, but besides a grunt here or there, she’s not sure if she’s making any contributions; if the spot he held for her was worth it.

“Sit down,” he instructs. He waits until she’s sitting, her knees nearly knocking together as her legs bounce. She feels her collar tighten. 

_ I shouldn’t have used so much starch _ , she thinks. 

“Listen, Haught. I know you haven’t been here long, and there’s things you don’t know, but-”

“I can do better,” she says over him. Her hand twitches, but she resists the urge to clap it down over her mouth. “I mean. I can do better. Whatever I’m not doing. I’ll do it. And if I’m doing it wrong, I can-”

“Slow down,” Nedley says. “I’m only asking if you’ll be the department representative at the preschool Career Day thing.” He nods towards the bullpen. Nicole twists in her seat, catching Pine through the blinds as he picks his nose. “I usually send Lonnie, but every year, one of those damn anklebiters convinces him to let them sit in the cruiser. One year, they almost crashed the damn thing.”

Nicole lets out a breath, her shoulder dropping. “Of course,” she says. “Of course I can.”

Nedley nods slowly. “Good. Thank you,” he adds as an afterthought. 

Nicole starts to push out of her chair, a ‘welcome’ on her lips.

Nedley clears his throat. “Just… Hold on a minute.” He narrows his eyes, staring at her for a long minute. “I was friends with Curtis, you know.”

There’s a burst of pressure that rushes through Nicole’s chest at the sound of Curtis’s name. It catches her off guard, the way The Eagles coming on the radio does, or when Gus pulls the tomato coffee mug out of the cupboard. She swallows against the lump building in her throat.

“I remember you were at his funeral, sir.”

Nedley nods, his eyes clouded for a moment. “He used to talk about those girls all the time. Wynonna this, Waverly that. He was always afraid Wynonna would end up on the wrong side of the law.”

Nicole thinks about Wynonna, spending her days at the garage with Doc, hanging out with members of the Banditos Motorcycle Gang. She’s been talking about taking a trip with them; Valdez almost has her convinced to get on the back of a bike and take off along the BC-1. Nicole knows she won’t, not yet. Not until Waverly goes away to college. She won’t leave Waverly behind.

“And Waverly, well.” Nedley leans back in his chair. It groans as the springs move. “She’s been Chrissy’s best friend for years now. She’s smart. Curtis always said she was.”

Nicole nods, a smile pulling at her lips. “He was right. But don’t tell her that. She already thinks she’s the smartest person in the room.”

“He was right about you, too,” Nedley says.

Nicole swallows. “He, uh. He talked about me?”

Nedley nods, leaning forward again. His elbows thud against the top of his desk, but he doesn’t flinch. “I used stop for coffee-”

“Every Sunday morning,” Nicole finishes. “I remember.”

Saturdays were for Mattie’s, and Sundays were for helping Waverly and Curtis open the diner for the early birds. She would leave Wynonna asleep in her room, hanging off the edge of her bed with one hand reaching for the radio, and sit in the cab of Curtis’s truck, leaning sleepily against the window as they rode through town to The Patch. 

“Before Chrissy made me cut back on the caffeine.” He scowls. “No one made it quite like Gus or Curtis.”

“Waverly does,” Nicole says, unable to stop herself. “She’s been opening on weekends for years, now.”

Nedley snorts. “If only her taste in that jukebox music was as good as the coffee she makes.”

“God, I know,” Nicole groans. “Did you know she actually  _ likes _ Wham! songs?”

“Your rock and roll isn’t any better,” he fires back. “You think I can’t hear it coming out of that desk radio of yours? Now, if you want to listen to some  _ good _ music, Roy Orbison is your guy. Rest in peace,” he adds in a murmur. “That new stuff, with the hair and the waxed chests?” He shakes his head. “But that’s not my point, Haught.”

Nicole straightens up in her seat. “Right, sir.”

“My point is that I used to come into The Patch on Sundays. And one Sunday, Curtis starts talking to me about this kid who’s been coming around.” He pauses. “He meant you.”

“I assumed, sir,” Nicole says kindly.

Nedley nods. “He tells me how she got Wynonna to talk, finally. That she hasn’t said a word after her daddy and sister passed, but she wouldn’t shut up once she met you.”

Nicole reaches up to scratch at the back of her neck. She remembers that first summer clearly - riding bikes with Wynonna, convincing Wynonna to let Waverly tag along.

“He said she woke up one morning and sat down at the kitchen table and told him she hated the way he made eggs.” Nedley shakes his head fondly. “That man made damn good eggs, too. But she told him she didn’t like ‘em, and she wanted them made the way her daddy made them, over hard. He asked her why the hell she decided to say something, and she told him it was because of  _ you _ .”

“She… She did?”

Nedley shrugs. “That’s what Curtis told me. Said, ‘Randy. This girl is special. She’s going to matter to these girls. She’s going to keep them going in the right direction. I just know it,’ is what he said.”

It’s been nearly five years, but Nicole hears Curtis in the back of her head like it was this morning that he left for Ottawa:  _ Keep them on track _ . 

“Through the years, he tells me all these things you’re doing,” Nedley continues. “Teaching Waverly how to ride a bike, keeping Wynonna out of fights. I came in one morning and he already had my coffee ready. He poured himself a cup and told me I had to promise him something.”

Nicole shifts uncomfortably in her chair, tugging at the back of her collar. She looks down at her Oxfords and zeroes in on a spot she must have missed when she shined them last night.

“What’s that, sir?”

“He made me promise that if you were going to keep those Earp girls on track, I had to keep you on yours.”

Nicole inhales sharply, a sudden pain in her chest. There’s a weight on her shoulder, like a warm, familiar hand she hasn’t felt in year is resting there. She shrugs and the weight disappears. 

“He… He did?”

Nedley nods slowly. He leans back in his seat again, folding his hands behind his head. “He was a good one, Curtis.”

“He was, sir,” Nicole says quietly.

“I see a lot of him in you.”

Nicole sits up a little straighter, her eyes burning. “You do?” she asks hoarsely.

Nedley leans forward again and steeples his fingers on the desk. “The care you have for other people. Curtis had that same drive.” He shakes his head. “He had the same kind of love.”

The sharpness in her chest is back, digging into her ribs. She bends a little, trying to ease the pressure. She can feel a phone pressed to her ear, Constable Sullivan’s voice so clear after so long. Her arm aches as if Gus and Waverly are still clutching it.

“It’s why I offered you this spot in the first place,” Nedley continues. “You know Champ Hardy wanted to go to the academy? Asked me if there was a job here if he did it and came back. But I need good people on my side. I need people who are going to carry the torch after I’m gone.”

She’s confused for a minute, the memory of Curtis clouding everything. She blinks a few times, trying to catch up to what Nedley is saying.

“Retirement is a long ways off, and you’ll have to continue to prove yourself,” he’s still saying. “But you’ve got the natural talent, and that’s something you can’t teach.” He picks his pen back, touches the tip of it to the page he was writing on before. “That’s all, Haught.”

Nicole stands too quickly, the world tilting for a minute. She grips the back of the chair, the leather cracking under her fingertips. She takes a short, shallow breath and wills her feet to move. 

“Close the door,” Nedley huffs as she reaches the door.

She nods sharply and closes it behind her, letting her head fall back against the glass. She takes a deeper breath, letting the world filter back in. She can hear the coffee pot percolating and the switch of the dispatch dashboard. She can smell Pine’s lasagna in the microwave. She opens her eyes and takes another breath, rolling her head side to side as she stretches out her neck.

“You okay, girl,” Linda asks as Nicole drifts by the counter.

Nicole nods, not trusting her voice.

Linda presses a hand to Nicole’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “It’s near your lunch. Aren’t you picking Waverly up from school?”

Nicole sighs in relief. “Yes. Do you think I can-”

“It’s only a few minutes before 3. Go,” Linda says. She tips her head in Pine’s direction. “Any calls come in, he’s on duty anyway.”

Nicole nods gratefully and grabs her hat off her desk, leaving her jacket on the back of her chair. She pulls her keys out of her desk, spinning the ring around her finger mindlessly. The ‘Someone Who Loves Me Went to Albuquerque’ keychain twinkles softly against her car keys as it goes around and around. She slips into the front seat of her Bonneville, turning the engine over. She leans forward and rests her head on the steering wheel, taking a deep breath before she sits back up. She reaches for the glove box, pulling  _ Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs _ out.

She remembers Curtis putting on Derek and the Dominos, Eric Clapton’s side band, in the kitchen, turning up the title track until Gus complained about the noise. She puts in Side B and fast-forwards through “Little Wing” and “It’s Too Late” until she finds the opening notes of “Layla.”

“ _ What’ll you do when you get lonely,” _ Clapton croons as she backs out of the station parking lot. She cruises past The Patch and Shorty’s, around the corner and by the Post Office. “ _ And nobody’s waiting by your side _ .”

She taps her fingers against the steering wheel, following the rhythm.

“ _ You’ve been running and hiding much too long. You know it’s just your foolish pride _ .”

“ _ Layla _ ,” she sings along. “ _ You’ve got my on my knees _ .”

She turns into the school parking lot and pulls up to the curb, putting the car into park. The bell rings loudly, echoing across the property. The front doors bang open and a few kids fly down the steps. Nicole pulls the rearview mirror down, checking her reflection. She fingers the top button of her uniform shirt and bites down on her bottom lip, slipping it out of place. She picks at the collar a little bit, double-checking the crease. Her hair is a little wavy today, the mid-spring cool air curling it at the ends. She tucks it back behind each ear, taking a deep breath and nodding at her reflection.

“ _ Darling, won’t you ease my worried mind _ ,” she mutters. She cranks the volume of the song a little higher and slips out of the front seat. 

One of the kids running down the front steps trips when he sees her uniform, barely catching himself before he hits the pavement. He straightens up, tugging on his backpack to tighten the straps. It nearly sends him to the ground again, but he shifts his weight and stays upright.

“Easy, son,” she says firmly.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he stammers. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Nicole watches him scurry past her to the bike rack, unlock his bike with unsteady hands, and take off on his Haro Shredder. She snorts. “Freshmen.”

She leans back against the side of her car, crossing her ankles and her arms, watching freshmen flood out of the school. She can pick them out easily from the sophomores and the juniors. She watches two girls whispering into each other’s ears, one of their hands drifting down the arm of the other.

“Nicole!”

_ “Turned my whole world upside down _ ,” Clapton sings.

Nicole turns back to the stairs as Waverly pauses at the top and calls her name.

She skips down the steps, laughing over her shoulder at something Chrissy says. She’s in her L.A. Gear High Tops and neon yellow laces. Her light blue denim shirt is tucked into her high-waisted, white-washed jeans, the collar popping out from underneath Nicole’s leather jacket.

“ _ You got me on my knees, Layla _ ,” Clapton warbles. “ _ Begging darlin’, please _ .”

“Hey,” Nicole breathes out as Waverly comes closer.

Waverly comes to a stop in front of her, her side ponytail swishing around her. “Hey. You on lunch?”

Nicole nods, reaching behind her to feel for the door handle. “Thought I could drive you to work.”

“I didn’t know the Sheriff’s Department ran a taxi service,” Chrissy says lightly, coming up behind Waverly. “Hi, Nicole.”

Nicole’s hand goes to the top of her unbuttoned shirt. “Chrissy.”

“Don’t get prude on my account,” Chrissy says, waving a hand at her. She tosses her side ponytail over her shoulder, her attention on Waverly. “I’ll come by The Patch later and we can put the finishing touches on everything?”

Waverly rests her hand on Nicole’s forearm, lowering her hand away from her collar. “Sounds clutch.” She presses in a little closer to Nicole. “Come before the dinner rush, though.”

Chrissy blows a bubble, snapping her gum. “Got it. Bye, lovebirds,” she calls, heading towards the 1987 Dodge Colt her dad bought her as an early graduation present.

Waverly leans in a little closer, the top of her sneakers edging against Nicole’s Oxford’s.

“Waves,” Nicole warns softly, a hand at Waverly’s waist. “I’m in uniform.”

“I know,” Waverly says, picking at Nicole’s belt buckle. “That’s what makes it so hard to keep my hands off you.” She backs up, though, looking expectantly at Nicole’s free hand, resting on the door handle.

Nicole pulls the door open and lets Waverly brush past her. She shudders when she feels Waverly’s fingertips dragging across her stomach, right above the waistline of her pants. Waverly turns down Eric Clapton, “Layla” in the middle of the guitar solo.

“How was class?” Nicole asks as she checks her sideview mirrors, pulling off of the curb. She goes slowly through the parking lot, avoiding underclassmen on bicycles and upperclassmen in their cars.

Waverly huffs and leans into her side, her left arm draped across Nicole’s legs. “Cryderman assigned us a paper. With, like, less than a month of school.”

Nicole laughs and leans back against the bench, out of the parking lot now. She drapes one arm behind Waverly’s shoulders, fingering the leather of the jacket Waverly is wearing. “He’s such an ass.”

“Yeah,” Waverly sighs. “God, I hope he retires soon.”

Nicole brakes at a stop sign, glancing up and down the road before she turns to face Waverly. “Hey,” she breathes out.

“Hey,” Waverly whispers back, lifting up off the seat a little to brush her mouth against Nicole’s. 

Nicole feels the tension drain from her shoulders, melting down her back. Waverly’s hand scratches at the inside of her knee, sliding a little higher and settling, warm and heavy on her thigh. Her tongue brushes against the Nicole’s bottom lip, and Nicole sighs softly.

A car honks behind them and Nicole jumps, her foot slipping off the brake for a second. She slams it back down, the car rocking forward, before she shoots across the intersection. Waverly laughs loudly, pressing her face into the sleeve of Nicole’s shirt.

Nicole’s face burns as she pulls down Main Street and onto the side street that gets her to the lot behind The Patch. She puts the car in park and leaves the engine running, humming quietly under Eric Clapton’s voice.

Waverly shifts on the seat, tucking one leg under her body. She reaches for the ends of Nicole’s hair, pulling it out from behind her ear and twisting it around her finger. “Remember when you had long hair?”

Nicole remembers. The last time it was long was the summer she met Waverly. She cut it a few weeks later, before school started, after she saw Debbie Harry’s hair on the cover of Blondie’s self-titled cassette.  _ I want hair like that _ , she told her mom. Nathan said she looked stupid, so she got Wynonna to help her tie all of his shoelaces together.

“I’m surprised  _ you _ remember,” Nicole hums, her eyes fluttering closed as Waverly’s fingers move to her neck.

“I remember a lot about you, Nicole Haught.”

Nicole opens her eyes and smirks. “Do you remember that I have exactly 28 minutes until I need to get back to the station?” she asks, as she leans in.

Waverly meets her halfway, the hand at the back of Nicole’s neck burning hot against her skin. Nicole’s hands land on the warm, worn leather of the jacket Waverly is wearing, and she grips it tightly, trying to hold Waverly as close as possible. Waverly’s tongue brushes against her bottom lip before it eases into her mouth and Nicole can finally feel the lingering ache of Nedley’s conversation melting away.

_ He was right about you, too _ .

Nicole nips at Waverly’s bottom lip.

_ This girl is special, he said _ .

Waverly whimpers as Nicole’s tongue slides against hers.

_ She’s going to keep them going in the right direction _ .

Nicole presses forward insistently, her chest tight. Waverly kisses back softly, slowing her down, her hands on Nicole’s face.

Nicole slides a hand up Waverly’s arm, across the front of her shoulder. She curls her fingers around the edge of the jacket and peels it back. She can feel Waverly’s collarbone under her hand and she sighs, relieved. Her other hand goes around Waverly’s back, pulling her closer.

“Can we reserve the last five minutes,” Waverly starts, breaking the kiss. Nicole shakes her head and leans back in, kissing Waverly pointedly. Waverly lets her for a moment, her fingers weaving through Nicole’s hair. “Wait, wait,” she says, breathless. She laughs and dips to the right when Nicole leans back in. “Hold on.”

Nicole sighs, but smiles and rests her elbow on the top of the bench seat, dropping her head into her hand. “Only 20 minutes, now.”

Waverly slaps her hand down over the dashboard clock. “I just need  _ five _ minutes. Maybe less if you decide you want to wear a tux, because then we would only have to match your cummerbund to my dress.” She tips her head to the side. “Unless you wanted a vest? Because I saw the vests at the Sears…” She trails a finger down Nicole’s front. “You would look good in either.”

Nicole laughs. “Why would I need to match anything to your dress?”

Waverly pauses for a second. “For prom,” she says slowly.

Her mind flashes back to a gymnasium bathed in red and pink light, Shae’s hands low on her waist.

Nicole stops laughing. “For  _ what _ ?”

Waverly frowns. “For  _ prom _ ,” she repeats.

“I’m not going to prom,” Nicole says, snorting. “I already graduated, remember?”

Waverly twists in her seat, planting her feet on the floor, crossing her arms over her chest. “Plenty of people go back for prom. Doc did when Wynonna went.”

“And I’m working that night,” Nicole tries, sitting with her back against the bench seat. The pressure helps to push back against the one building in her chest. There’s that weight of that hand on her shoulder - warm and heavy and fatherly - keeping her rooted in place, even as the weight of someone’s hands wrapping around her waist tries to pull her away.

“You can take it off of work,” Waverly says. “I’m sure Nedley would-”

Nicole looks at Waverly sharply. “I can’t just take work off for  _ prom _ . We’re drawing straws to see who’s getting stuck calling parents.”

“Nicole, you can-”

“Speaking of, I’m gonna late for work,” she adds quickly, cutting Waverly off. She blinks and Waverly is 13 again, pouting on the front porch as Wynonna pushes Nicole towards Gus’s station wagon, telling her they’re going to be late for the dance. She turns her head, wrapping both hands around her steering wheel.  She can feel Waverly’s eyes on her. “Can we just talk about this later?” 

There’s a pleading in her voice she knows Waverly can hear, but she can’t bring herself to look across the bench seat. She hears the soft  _ crack _ as Waverly’s jaw snaps closed and the sharp inhale of air through her nose. 

“Fine,” Waverly says after a minute. “Later.”

The passenger door groans as it opens.

“I lo-”

Waverly slams the door shut, stomping up the back steps of The Patch. The kitchen screen door bangs shut behind her.

“Get bent, Clapton,” Nicole grumbles as she shuts off the radio.

 

-

Nicole idles outside of the school, watching the last of the students straggle down the steps. She taps the steering wheel to the beat of “Moneytalks” by AC/DC, singing along subconsciously. She hadn’t gone by The Patch last night after all; she called and told Gus that Nedley had asked her to stay on through the next shift, to work some more on her presentation for the Accident Prevention Plan. She hadn’t really lied - she did work on the presentation, but Nedley told her to leave at the end of her shift and then called the station later to yell at her when he found out she hadn’t.

She sees Waverly coming out by the gym doors and she inhales sharply, fumbling for the door handle. She stumbles out of her car, barely catching herself as she tries to get over the curb she parked next to. “Waverly!” she shouts.

Waverly’s head turns and the smile on her face falters for a minute when she sees Nicole. She touches the arm of the person she’s talking to and peels off, heading for Nicole’s car. She stops on the sidewalk, narrowing her eyes against the afternoon sun.

Nicole smiles hesitantly. “Did Gus tell you I ended up staying late?”

Waverly nods wordlessly.

“Nedley wanted me to shore up my presentation. I give it tomorrow, you know.”

Waverly holds a hand up against the sun. “I know,” she says simply.

Nicole turns and grabs the door handle, pulling the door open. “Can I drive you to work?” She pushes her free hand into her pocket and kicks at the curb. “Please?”

Waverly sighs heavily. “Fine,” she says, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she brushes past Nicole and gets in the car, far more gracefully than when Nicole got out. 

Nicole slides in after her, settling behind the wheel. She locks her arms, her hands at 10 and 2. AC/DC feels too loud, even with the windows down, but she waits for Waverly to make the first move.

Waverly finally moves, reaching to turn down the volume.

“That was Cora Odam,” Waverly says.

Nicole nods. “Now I remember. She looked familiar. Didn’t she get held back?”

Waverly hums. “She’s nice. A little… boy-crazy, but nice.”

“Right,” Nicole says, remembering hearing about Cora’s date with Champ Hardy. “How is she?”

“Good,” Waverly says flatly. She turns, tucking one leg under her body. “How’re  _ you _ ?”

“Sorry,” Nicole says quickly. “I should have picked you up last night.”

“You should have,” Waverly agrees. She smiles to take the sting out of the words. “Are you going to drive me home tonight?”

Nicole feels her shoulders drop in relief. “Of course I am,” she says firmly. “My shift is over at 6pm, so I’ll come by and maybe grab something to eat before you’re done?”

Waverly pinches the top of Nicole’s shoulder gently. “So, what? The promise of  _ me _ isn’t good enough? Now it needs to be me and a free order of fries?”

Nicole catches Waverly’s hand in her own, turning it over and kissing her knuckles. “Baby, you know what I really go to The Patch for.”

Waverly’s cheeks go pink.

“Bobo singing Supertramp,” Nicole finishes.

Waverly shrieks, pushing at Nicole.

Nicole laughs, leaning into Waverly’s hands. She presses kisses to Waverly’s neck and face and hair, pulling Waverly tight against her.

“You suck,” Waverly grumbles.

Nicole kisses Waverly’s forehead one more time. “But, I love you.”

Waverly sighs, leaning into her side. Her hand slips around the curve of Nicole’s knee. Her fingers are hot through the heavy fabric of Nicole’s uniform pants. She remembers the first day she put it on, how Waverly had helped her iron everything - from her socks and underwear to the collared shirt she has on. She remembers standing in front of the full-length mirror in her mom’s bathroom, Waverly sitting on the counter singing her Survivor songs and polishing her Oxfords. She can remember tugging at the high collar of her shirt and the starched lines of her pants and wondering if Nedley was wrong about her; if he held this spot for her and she’s going to fail him; if she’s going to fail Waverly and Wynonna and Gus and her mom and Nathan and Curtis. Waverly had pulled her close, looped her arms around Nicole’s neck, and told her she was proud of Nicole.

They played Scandal’s “The Warrior” on repeat, and Nicole let Waverly talk her out of her wrinkling that uniform after they put so much work into making it look good. 

“I love you, too,” Waverly sighs.

Nicole drapes her arm around the back of Waverly’s shoulders, pulling her in close. She presses her face into Waverly’s hair, breathing in deeply. She can feel the tension leaving her body and the phantom hands on her waist that have been there all night start to fade. 

“You know, Cora is dating Herman Tate.”

Nicole blinks, thrown by the subject change. She thinks for a minute, remembering Hetty Tate, who followed Nathan around for an entire summer, before she remembers her brother, Herman. She finally nods. “Yeah, I think I heard that.”

“He’s a year older than you,” Waverly continues. She pauses, the silence almost deafening. “She’s going to take him to prom.”

Nicole groans softly. “Baby,” she starts.

The radio is off, but Nicole swears she hears the opening notes of “Crazy For You,” Madonna cooing,  _ “swaying room as the music starts. Strangers making the most of the dark.” _ She shudders, her stomach turning over. Those hands on her waist are back again, too hot and too clumsy. And then Madonna is gone, replaced by Waverly turning the volume dial back up.

“ _ That ain't workin', that's the way you do it: money for nothin', and chicks for free, _ ” Mark Knopfler is singing.

“I’m just saying, people do it all the time. Doc went with Wynonna. Herman is taking Cora.” Waverly shrugs, walking the fingers of her free hand along Nicole’s arm. The other hand turns over in Nicole’s, lacing their fingers together. “And, like, how clutch would it be for me to show up with a fine, older girl who’s also a cop.”

Nicole snorts. “No one would drink the punch.”

Waverly sits up on her knees, resting her free hand on Nicole’s shoulder for support. She lets go of Nicole’s hand, and brushes back her hair. “You would look so good in a tux,” she breathes out. “A bowtie, right here.” Her fingers dance along Nicole’s collarbone, slipping under the plat of Nicole’s uniform shirt. 

Nicole grabs Waverly’s hand, grinning. “I need to go back to work. We never got around to drawing straws for prom night.” She winds her finger into the collar of Waverly’s jacket and tugs her down, their mouths bumping. “I’m pretty sure that they’re going to make me do it, since I’m the rookie.”

“No they won’t,” Waverly says confidently. “I already talked to Nedley, and he said you can have the night off so you can come to prom.”

“You did  _ what _ ?” Nicole asks, her face burning.

“I asked Nedley about you taking the night off,” Waverly repeats. She twists out of Nicole’s grasp, eyes trailing over Nicole’s face. “What’s the big deal?”

Nicole grinds her back teeth together. “The big deal is that  _ you _ asked  _ my boss _ if I could skip work. To go to  _ prom _ !”

“With  _ me _ ,” Waverly shouts back. 

“This is my  _ job _ , Waverly. You can’t… You can’t…” Nicole shakes her head, her mouth hot and dry. “You can’t do that.”

“I don’t see what-”

Nicole can only see pink and red heart centerpieces, Shae’s hair teased out, and Wynonna flashing her a thumbs up from across the dance floor.

“No, you  _ don’t  _ see,” Nicole hisses. “That’s the damn problem.”

_ That’s the problem _ , Shae’s voice echoes in her head.

“I need to go back to the station,” Nicole mumbles, defeat sinking in. She’s not sure how she’s going to explain to her boss what happened, or why it happened. “See if I can fix this problem you created.”

Waverly opens her mouth to say something, but snaps it shut just as quickly. She presses her lips into a thin line. “Nicole,” she finally says. “I-”

“I can’t drive you to The Patch,” Nicole interrupts. She keeps her eyes on the parking lot in front of her. “Maybe Cora can give you a ride.” She knows she saw Chrissy’s Dodge Colt when she pulled into the parking lot. “Or Chrissy.”

“Nicole-”

“I have to get back to work,” she says, her teeth clenched.

Waverly pauses with her hand on the door. Nicole can feel the pressure in the air, like Waverly wants to say something, but all Nicole hears is the door groan open and shut. Waverly crosses in front of her car, her bag bouncing across the hood of the Bonneville. Nicole flinches with each thunk, but Waverly stomps across the lot, shouting Chrissy’s name as the other girl comes out of the gym doors. 

“And we’re going to travel back in time to 1985,” the DJ says over the radio. “With Madonna’s classic, ‘Crazy For You’ coming up, right after the commercial break.”

Nicole stabs at the function button on the radio, pressing play on the tape deck. Rick Springfield comes on, too loud.

_ “You better love somebody, don't wait. You better love somebody, don't tempt fate. You're gonna push it just a little too far.” _

Nicole groans and fast forwards to the next song, peeling out of the high school parking lot and hoping Nedley hasn’t gone to The Patch for his nightly dinner. 

 

-

“She doesn’t get it,” Nicole says again. She rolls over on Wynonna’s bed and drops her head back into the comforter. “She, like, just went over my head and talked to my  _ boss _ .” Nicole pauses, waiting for Wynonna’s response, but it’s quiet. She sits up again and kicks in Wynonna’s direction. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Honestly?” Wynonna asks. She sits up a little more, her back against the headboard. “No.”

Nicole whines and rolls back onto her front, pressing her face into Wynonna’s comforter. She lets out a short scream and lifts her head, breathing in fresh air. “When’s the last time you washed this?”

Wynonna shrugs, thumbing the corner of a  _ Rolling Stone _ magazine. “1987?”

“Smells like it,” Nicole grumbles. 

Wynonna looks up. “I think that was about the same time you started talking about Waverly and  _ never. stopped _ .” 

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“ _ Waverly this _ ,  _ Waverly that _ ,” Wynonna mocks. She rolls the magazine up and brings it down on Nicole’s shoulder. “You used to be  _ my _ friend. Remember?”

Nicole softens a little and studies Wynonna’s face. She’s tired, Nicole notices. And there’s a look in her eyes that used to be there when Wynonna was younger, angry at everything and sad. She pinches the fabric of Wynonna’s jeans, near her ankle. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Wynonna says quickly, her eyes going across the room and lingering on the desk. She picks at a loose thread on the comforter. Nicole watches her twist the thread around her finger slowly before she lets it unravel.

“Nedley told me he wants to train me. Personally,” Nicole says. She sits up, cross-legged. “Not that I’m taking over. And this has nothing to do with Waverly,” she adds.

Wynonna snorts, but her eyes skate back towards Nicole. “That’s big time.”

“Super big time,” Nicole agrees. “I mean, Pine and Lonnie have been on the force longer than me. Diaz, too. But he pulled me in and told me he wanted  _ me _ .”

“No duh. You’ve always been Five-O.” Wynonna shimmies down until she’s lying flat on her back, staring at the ceiling.  _ Rolling Stone _ drops out of her hand and onto the floor. “Makes sense you’d be, like,  _ Chief _ Five-O.”

“Sheriff,” Nicole corrects. She pauses. “I haven’t told anyone.”

Wynonna pushes up onto her elbows, her hair in her face. “Not even Waverly?”

Nicole shrugs. “Not yet. I don’t tell her everything,” she says defensively.

Wynonna raises an eyebrow slowly.

“Not  _ everything _ ,” Nicole amends. She elbows Wynonna. “What about you, though.”

Wynonna shrugs. “You know me. I’ve always been a robber.”

Nicole laughs. “No, you haven’t. You were always a cop with me.”

“It sounded more poetic when I was the robber.”

“That was Waverly,” Nicole points out.

Wynonna groans. “I swear to god, if you say she stole your heart, I’ll-”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Nicole interrupts.

“But you were thinking it,” Wynonna says, pointing a finger into Nicole’s face. “I can see it. There’s  _ lights _ in your eyes. I bet you’re singing ‘Never Tear Us Apart’ in your head right now, aren’t you?” Wynonna shudders. “God, that song was the worst when they played that at prom. And Doc’s hands were so sweaty.”

Nicole groans. “Prom,” she says, flopping face down into the mattress. 

“And we’re back to Waverly,” Wynonna says lightly.

“ _ You _ brought up prom.” She holds up a hand when Wynonna opens her mouth to argue. “But we’re not talking about prom.  _ Right now _ ,” she adds at Wynonna’s pointed look. “Right now, we’re talking about you.”

Wynonna snorts, looking away. “And then what? We’ll braid each other’s hair and paint our toenails and talk about boys?”

Nicole shrugs. “I can braid your hair if you want. I think I remember how.” She squints a little, moving her hands in a clunky attempt at a braid-maneuver. “But I’m not going anywhere near your feet.”

Wynonna stretches her leg out and swings it in Nicole’s direction, shoving her toes right under Nicole’s nose. 

“Gross!” she shouts, pushing Wynonna’s leg away. “God, those smell grody.”

Wynonna smiles proudly.

“Is it Doc?” Nicole asks.

Wynonna blinks and quickly shakes her head. “No. It has nothing to do with him.”

Nicole nods slowly. She picks up the  _ Rolling Stone _ and smoothes it out. Aerosmith is on the cover, Steven Tyler with his mouth open wide. She flips open to the cover article,  _ Aerosmith’s Amazing Road Back _ . “Steven Tyler enters the hotel room and strips down to his black cracker – a sort of G-string,” she reads to herself. She shudders at the mental image and flips another few pages further into the magazine. She finds an article about Alec Baldwin.

“ _ Fine _ ,” Wynonna huffs after a minute of silence. “It’s Valdez.”

Nicole looks up, eyes wide. “Are we going to braid each other’s hair, paint each other’s nails, and talk about  _ girls _ ?”

Wynonna kicks at her weakly. “She wants me to go on the road with her.”

Nicole’s smile stretches.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Wynonna mutters. “She wants me to get a motorcycle and ride across the country-  _ You know what I mean _ ,” she shouts over Nicole’s laughing. 

Nicole gasps for air, clutching her stomach. “It just… got worse… and worse…” she pants. 

Wynonna grabs the  _ Rolling Stone _ out of her hand and smacks her on the shoulder again. “You’re mental.”

Nicole takes a few deep breaths, pulling herself together. “And you’re leaving?”

“No,” Wynonna says quietly. “Not now. Waverly hasn’t even graduated yet.”

Nicole nods slowly. “But you want to.”

Wynonna shrugs one shoulder. “Sometimes I feel like Purgatory has too many ghosts, you know?”

Nicole stares at Wynonna for a long moment. “Yeah,” she breathes out, thinking of Curtis and her dad and Shae. She can’t imagine how many ghosts Wynonna sees - Curtis, her mom, her dad, her sister.

“What’s that word when you don’t like to be trapped?”

Nicole thinks for a minute. “Claustrophobia?”

Wynonna nods. “I’m feeling claustrophobia.”

“Claustrophobic,” Nicole corrects.

“That, too,” Wynonna says distractedly. “Valdez, she found an old 1970 Triumph TR6 that needs a little bit of body work, but it runs. She said it’ll be enough to get out pretty far and all the way back, if that’s what I wanted.” Her voice is so quiet that Nicole has to lean in to hear her speak. “The Banditos might not always do the  _ legal _ thing, but they’re decent people.”

Nicole nods. “I like Valdez,” she says.

Wynonna goes quiet, digging her heel into the comforter. “I wouldn’t leave now. Waverly hasn’t even graduated. She still has prom. She’s going to go to college soon, and I promised her…” She trails off, shrugging. “I promised I wouldn’t leave her behind. But I think if she leaves me, it doesn’t matter anymore, right?”

Nicole swallows past the lump building in her throat. Waverly going away to college has been on her mind a lot lately. She tries not to think about it; tries not to think about all of the acceptance letters littering the refrigerator in Gus’s kitchen, welcoming Waverly to colleges across Canada. She tries not to think about adding Waverly to that list of ghosts that live in this town.

“I’ll still be here.”

Wynonna laughs, something low and watery. “Of course you will be. Unless Waverly kills you for not taking her to prom,” she adds.

Nicole groans again. “ _ Prom _ .” She looks back at Wynonna, ready to push the idea of prom to the side and focus on Wynonna, but there’s something in Wynonna’s eyes that says she doesn’t want to talk anymore.

“What’s your beef with prom?” Wynonna asks. “You didn’t even go to ours.”

Nicole scoffs. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“Remember? I had to deal with Waverly stomping around the house complaining about the color of my dress, the way I did my hair. Even the car Doc borrowed to pick me up.” Wynonna glares down at Nicole. “She seemed to think  _ you _ would do a better job planning the night for the two of you than I did for me and Doc.”

“We weren’t together then,” Nicole mumbles.

“Oh, I know.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “It’s  _ just _ prom. I don’t get the big deal.”

The door opens, nearly slamming against the wall before Waverly catches the doorknob in her hand. “It  _ is _ a big deal.”

Nicole almost rolls off the bed, grabbing Wynonna’s leg at the last second to stop herself from falling. “What the-”

“Fuck,” Wynonna finishes, her hand pressed flat against her chest. 

“Language,” Nicole murmurs.

Wynonna glares at her. “What were you going to say?”

“...Heck,” Nicole finally says.

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Five-O. I can’t even swear without getting a warning.”

“Next, it’ll be a ticket,” Nicole promises.

Wynonna sits up a little, leaning in. Her eyes flash excitedly. “On what grounds?”

“For indecent-”

“Excuse me,” Waverly says sharply. She’s standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed. “Prom  _ is _ a big deal.”

Nicole feels a flash of irritation. “So is my  _ job _ , Waverly. In fact, I’d say it’s  _ way _ more important than some dumb dance.”

“Prom isn’t some-”

Wynonna starts to stand up. “I’m gonna just-”

“Sit,” Waverly snaps.

“Stay,” Nicole says at the same time. 

Wynonna sits down again, pouting.

“You went over my head and talked to my  _ boss _ ,” Nicole repeats.

“Surprised you didn’t need a stepladder,” Wynonna mumbles. She ignores Waverly’s glare and flops backwards onto her bed and rolls her eyes at them. 

“It’s just Chrissy’s dad,” Waverly argues.

“To  _ you _ ,” Nicole corrects. “To  _ you _ , Nedley is just your best friend’s dad. But he’s my  _ boss _ . He’s in charge of hiring and firing me. How do you think it looks  _ for me _ that you went and asked permission for me to have the night off?” She doesn’t wait for Waverly’s answer. “It looks like I’m trying to use  _ your _ relationship with his daughter to get what I want. It looks like favoritism, Waverly. Like I’m not taking this job seriously.”

Waverly’s shoulders soften as they fold in. She crosses her arms over the front of her body, her glare fading. “I… I didn’t think about it like that,” she says softly.

“No, you didn’t,” Nicole agrees, her voice hard and her face hot. She takes a deep breath and tries to control the anger she feels poking at the back of her mind. “All you care about is this lame school dance.”

_ I know you think school dances are totally lame _ , Shae had said.  _ But I think we should go _ .

Waverly sighs. “Baby, I just don’t understand why you hate school dances so much. It’s just fancy dresses and tuxedos and terrible music.”

_ My mom got me a dress in the city and you can wear your new jeans. We’ll listen to bad music and we can laugh when Champ Hardy tries to do the Robot _ .

“I don’t want to,” Nicole says, her teeth clenched tightly.

Wynonna shifts on the bed. “When was the last time you even  _ went _ to a dance?”

Nicole crosses her arms over her chest uncomfortably. “Why does that matter?”

_ Have you ever been to a school dance _ ? Shae asked.  _ It’ll be fun!  _

Wynonna slides forward, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You didn’t go to prom.” She lifts a finger. “You didn’t go to any of the spring dances or homecomings.” She puts up another few fingers. “I think the last dance you went to was-”

_ It’s the Valentine’s Day dance _ , Shae pleaded.  _ And, you know. You’re my valentine this year _ .

“The Valentine’s Day dance,” Nicole fills in.

Waverly inhales sharply. “Oh.”

Wynonna snaps her fingers. “Right! With-”

“Shae,” Nicole finishes.

“Right! Wynonna repeats. Her face falls. “Oh.”

Nicole looks at Waverly, scanning her face. She opens her mouth, but Waverly beats her to it.

“So, what?” Waverly asks, her voice rough. “You had such a  _ totally rad _ time at the dance with Shae that you don’t want to ruin the memory?”

Nicole laughs, hollow. She reaches for her leather jacket, hanging over the back of Wynonna’s desk chair. She picks up the  _ Rolling Stone _ and rolls it, tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Yeah, Waverly,” she says wearily. “It was such a great night.”

_ This is going to be the best night ever _ , Shae had whispered in her ear.

Waverly moves in front of her, blocking her when she takes a step forward. “No, wait.  _ Was _ it? And now prom won’t… it won’t be good enough?”

Nicole pauses, her jaw hanging open. “You… You think that’s what this is about?”

_ That’s what this is about _ ? Shae asked.

“It’s  _ got _ to be about her,” Waverly says.

Nicole feels a spark of anger rushing through her, boiling in the pit of her stomach. “You know what? Why don’t you get real?” She pushes past Waverly, leaning into the door instead of in towards Waverly. “I’m outta here.”

She slams the screen door on her way out of the house, peels out of the driveway quicker than she should, and doesn’t take a deep breath until she hits Main Street.

 

\- 

She’s lying in bed in the middle of the day, listening to Van Halen’s  _ OU812 _ for the third time in a hour when she sits up in bed and swears.

“Fuck,” she breathes out.

“ _ Oh, how do I know when it's love _ ?” Sammy Hagar sings. “ _ I can't tell you but it lasts forever _ .”

Nicole goes back over the last conversation she had with Waverly, three days ago in Wynonna’s bedroom. She’d gone to work and taken her lunch at the same as Pine, going to get food at the hotdog stand near the park and then doing a foot patrol around Purgatory Elementary. 

_ “How does it feel when it's love? It's just something you feel together.” _

She groans and drops her head back down onto her pillow, pulling the comforter up and into her mouth, screaming around the flannel fabric. 

_ It’s got to be about her _ , Waverly had said. 

Nicole had been mad -  _ furious,  _ really. Furious that Waverly would bring Shae up after all this time; furious that Waverly still can’t say her name; furious that she can’t shake the weight of Shae’s hands on her waist and around her neck while Madonna sings about two strangers in the dark. 

She had been  _ fuming _ , but she was wrong. She shouldn’t have just left. She should have stopped and explained to Waverly that it had never been about Shae; that  _ that _ was exactly the problem. 

She should have said, “ _ That’s the funny thing, Waves. It’s always been about you _ .”

That Valentine’s Day dance, she wore her best pair of jeans and the cleanest shirt she could find in Nathan’s closet, rolling the sleeves up past her elbows and trying not to wince at the way the too-big sleeves kept sliding down back towards her elbows. She sat in the back of Gus’s station wagon, afraid of being sick. She had stood on the front porch and nervously stabbed at the doorbell, pushing her sweating hands into the pockets of her jeans. 

She had wished it was Waverly coming out the door and onto the porch.

Her prom would have been their chance to do it right. Her prom would have been her chance to ring the doorbell and watch Waverly come down the stairs in a blue and black dress with too many bows. 

Instead, she avoided Waverly and prom and lost that moment all over again. 

_ “When it's love, you look at every face in a crowd. Some shine and some keep you guessin'” _

Nicole sighs. She could blame it on Nedley, bringing up Curtis out of the blue like she’s suddenly okay to talk about him  _ whenever _ someone wants to. She could blame it on Shae, if she wanted to, and how she’s gone, but still lingering in old cassette tapes, gathering dust. She could even blame it on Waverly and the way she still carries Nicole’s only secret around like an open wound.

It’s  _ her own _ fault, though. 

_ “Waiting for someone to come into focus, teach you your final love lesson.” _

And she needs to fix it.

_ But prom is tomorrow _ , she remembers. She sits up and swears again.

“Fuck.”


	2. how easy it would be to show me how you feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hit play,” she whispers to Wynonna.
> 
> Wynonna looks down. “You want me to hit play?”
> 
> “Wynonna, just be nice to me, for once in your life?” she whispers harshly.
> 
> Wynonna pouts. “I’m nice,” she grumbles, but leans down and presses ‘play’ on the boombox.
> 
> “Saying I love you,” Gary Cherone croons. “Is not the words I want to hear from you. It’s not that I want you not to say it, but if only knew how easy it would be to show me how you feel.”
> 
> The screen door opens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This side is rated M, for mature.

There’s too much to do. She would need to convince Waverly to go with her, wash her car, get a tuxedo, get it fitted, find matching corsage and  boutonnière, get the night off work, and make sure Waverly didn’t pick up a shift, either. 

She groans and lays back down. She turns her head to the side, eyes finding the alarm clock on her nightstand. There’s no way she can get all of this done in 28 hours. 

Nicole drops a hand over her eyes, blocking out most of the midday sun. Some of it slips in through the cracks between her fingers, blinding her. She thinks about the neon lights of Shorty’s, and the way they reflected off of Waverly’s hair, catching Nicole in the eyes just as she leaned down to kiss her. 

She closes her eyes tight until she sees white spots dancing behind her eyelids. They blur into dancing dots, coming off a disco ball, hanging high above her head.

_ “How do I know when it's love? I can't tell you, but it lasts forever. How does it feel when it's love? It's just something you feel together.” _

She can feel hands on her hips, light and quick as they move up her sides and to her arms, squeezing gently before fingertips brush over her collar and around the back of her neck, lacing loosely.

_ “Oh oh oh oh, oh when it's love.” _

_ I’m going to prom _ , she decides.

She rolls out of bed and pulls open her bedroom door, stopping short when she nearly runs into Nathan.

“What?”

“What?” she echoes. She glares at him. “Why’re you standing outside of my door?”

“I live here, don’t I?”

“Because mom is a sucker,” Nicole mumbles.

Nathan socks her in the shoulder. “Don’t be an ass. I came up here because mom is hassling me about why you’re not going to Waverly’s prom.”

Nicole groans. “Not her, too.”

Nathan shrugs. “She went to work, so she told me to ask you. I don’t care if you go or not. Though, I do wish that you would so I can see you in a dress. And laugh,” he adds. “I bet it’s  _ aces _ .”

Nicole crosses her arms over her chest. “I would wear a tuxedo, narbo.”

“Oh.” Nathan tips his head to the side, looking her up and down. “Yeah. That makes more sense.”

Nicole drops her arms. “It does?”

Nathan nods slowly. “I mean, when’s the last time you even wore a dress?”

“Easter,” Nicole answers quickly. “Dad was still here. So… 1977?”

Nathan keeps nodding. “You’ll look good in a tuxedo.”

Nicole’s lips twitch. “You think so?”

“Well,” Nathan says slowly. “Not as good as me.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder, at the picture of Nathan, Nicole, and their mom on the wall, taken on Nathan’s prom night. He pats her on each shoulder. “You could probably look about as half as good as me.”

Nicole’s cheeks flush. “Okay.” She inhales, filling her lungs. “I’m going to prom, actually.”

Nathan frowns and checks his wristwatch. “When did you decide that?”

Nicole shrugs. “Somewhere between  _ oh oh oh oh _ and  _ Oh, when it’s love _ ?”

Nathan snorts. “Do you have a tuxedo? A ride? A  _ date _ ?”

Nicole reaches out to smack him in the side of the head, but he dodges her hand and slides to the left. She stumbles forward a few feet, catching herself on the wall. “Poser,” she mumbles. She straightens up. “I have 2 out of 3. Meatloaf says that ain’t bad.”

Nathan narrows his eyes. “You sure about that date part? Because I heard you’re fighting.”

Nicole scowls. “Where did you hear that?”

“Linda,” Nathan says simply. “Her grandson, Cub, is on my t-ball team.”

“Linda,” Nicole growls softly.

“At practice yesterday, Linda told me you’re not taking your lunch hour to go pick up Waverly from school.” Nathan rolls his eyes. “She talks about you an awful lot.”

“What’s your point?” Nicole asks.

Nathan shrugs. “I heard you were fighting, that’s all.”

“It’s… It’s a  _ stupid _ reason, and I-”

“Don’t need to tell me about it,” Nathan cuts in. “So, what? You’re going to pull a  _ you _ and go stand on her lawn with a boombox again?”

“I’m not going to…” She trails off, her mind racing. She  _ could _ do that. She could stand on Waverly’s lawn with a boombox and see if it’s enough to get her to agree to prom, after all.

Nathan groans. “Oh, no.”

“You’re a  _ genius _ ,” she breathes out. She paces back and forth across the narrow hallway. “But I need everything all set up first. I need to get a tuxedo. I need it fitted. I need Waverly to be dressed,” she says to herself, her brain shifting hard into overdrive. She turns suddenly, grabbing Nathan by the front of his Pearl Jam t-shirt. “I need to wash my car.”

Nathan slowly peels her hand from his shirt. “Listen, nerd. You’re going to have to slow down. There’s no way you can get all of this done by tomorrow.”

“I  _ have _ to,” she says, her voice thick.

Nathan stares at her for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he says slowly. “I’ll take care of the car. And then I’ll park it under the carport so it doesn’t get dirty,” he offers.

“Really?” she asks. She knows that he put that carport up himself and he usually parks his 1975 Cadillac Eldorado under it.

“This is a one-time offer,” he says firmly. “Take it or leave it.”

“Take it,” she says quickly. “I take it.”

Nathan nods sharply and rolls his shoulders back, stretching them out. “Let me get my tuxedo,” he sighs. “It’ll need to be taken in, around the shoulders for sure. But it might fit you. We’re the same height, after all.”

“Really?” Nicole breathes out. She looks at him suspiciously. “Why’re you doing this?”

“Honest?” 

“Honest,” she echoes. 

She remembers being seven, hiding under Nathan’s comforter as her mom and dad argued again.  _ Honest _ ? he would say, whenever she asked if he thought this was going to be the argument that sent her dad away.  _ Honest _ , she would tell him, wanting the truth.

“Part of it is because Linda promised she’d help sew numbers onto the kids uniforms this year,” Nathan says. “So when we play against those kids from the other side of town, we at least  _ look _ like we’re going to cream them. And the other part is... “ He shrugs. “You’re my little sister. I’m always going to look out for you.”

Nicole feels her eyes start to burn at the corners, and she blinks heavily, trying to clear the building tears. “Okay,” she says, her voice strangled.

“Don’t make it a thing,” Nathan warns.

“I’m not,” Nicole lies.

Nathan stares at her for a moment. “You’ll need a new cummberbund.”

Nicole waves a hand at him. “I’ll get a vest. After I know what Waverly is wearing.” She snaps her fingers. “I need to find out what Waverly is wearing.” She starts down the hallway, past Nathan, but pauses a step past him. She turns quickly, leans forward, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, his face red. “Just… go, would you?”

She grins widely and jumps down the stairs two at a time, racing through the living room and skidding to a stop in the kitchen. She grabs for the phone and dials the number she knows by heart.

“Hello?”

Nicole feels her heart stop for a minute. She hadn’t imagined that  _ Waverly  _ would pick up the phone. She feels her stomach flop, but she grits her teeth and tries to mask her voice.

“Is Wynonna there?”

Waverly goes quiet for a second. “Who is this?”

“Smith. Uh, Beau Smith,” she says dumbly.

“Mr. Smith, the art teacher?”

Nicole flinches. “Uh, yes,” she says, her voice breaking on the words.

“What do you want Wynonna for?”

Nicole looks around the kitchen nervously, chewing on her bottom lip. “Uh, it’s a matter of unresolved detentions.”

There’s a long pause on the line. Nicole winds the telephone cord around her finger until she can’t feel it. She sings the first verse of “Something to Believe In” in her head before Waverly finally speaks.

“You’re, like, 5 years too late,” Waverly says slowly.

Nicole coughs. “I’m aware.” She taps her foot impatiently against the kitchen floor. “Is Wynonna there, or is there somewhere else I can reach her?” She knows Wynonna has to be home; she wouldn’t be caught at The Patch if it’s not a shift Waverly is working. She hears Waverly sigh.

“Fine.”

There’s a loud clunk that makes Nicole wince. She can hear the muffled sound of Waverly cupping her hand over the mouthpiece, hollering Wynonna’s name loud enough that Nicole can still hear it. She sings the first chorus and second verse of Poison’s song until she hears Waverly take her hand away from the receiver.

“You have a boyfriend, Wynonna,” Waverly says sharply.

“And what?” Wynonna asks.

“And whatever boy is calling you, pretending to be Mr. Smith, needs to remember that.”

“Is that you, Waverly?” Wynonna aks dryly, small and far away-sounding in Nicole’s ear. “Or did Johnny 5 replace you?

Nicole can hear Waverly sigh. “Sorry, I’m-”

Wynonna laughs, cutting Waverly off. “It’s probably just Doc being lame. Give me the phone.”

There’s a loud thump and a scraping noise, and then Wynonna is breathing into her ear.

“Don’t say anything,” Nicole says softly. “Especially  _ not _ my name.”

There’s a moment of silence before Wynonna coughs. “You’re hilarious,  _ Dolls _ .”

Nicole can hear a faint scoff that must be Waverly.

“What do you want?” Wynonna asks. “And why the hell are you pretending to be Mr. Smith?”

“I panicked,” Nicole groans. “I didn’t think Waverly was home.”

Wynonna hums in her ear. “Well, she is. She told Gus she had plans to get ready for prom, but she’s been listening to Sinéad O'Connor  _ nonstop _ and randomly calling you a coward.”

“Oh,” Nicole breathes out.

She can practically hear Wynonna roll her eyes on the other end of the line. “Don’t stress it. She’ll get over it in a few days.”

“Actually,” Nicole starts, suddenly unsure of her plan. “I have an idea for that. But I need your help.”

“Help with what?”

Nicole paces across her kitchen - to the refrigerator, turn, back to the phone, turn. She twists the cord around her finger. “With getting Waverly to go to prom with me.”

Wynonna snorts. “You can just  _ ask _ her.”

Nicole is already shaking her head, though Wynonna can’t see her. “No, no. I already… I already messed this all up. It needs to be  _ special _ .”

“So let me get this right,” Wynonna starts, stretching each word out. “You want me to help you. With a plan to get my baby sister to go to prom with you. Because  _ asking her _ isn’t good enough?”

“See? I told everyone you were smart, and they never believed me.” Nicole grins. “Here you are, proving them wrong.”

“I don’t care if you’re a roller. I can still kick your ass,” Wynonna promises. Her voice changes quickly. “Uh, totally, Dolls. That sounds good.”

Nicole covers her mouth so Wynonna can’t hear her laughing.

“For the record,” Wynonna says in a harsh whisper. “I think this is a stupid idea.”

Nicole opens the refrigerator and scans the shelves, grabbing the deli package of cheese. “You haven’t even heard my idea.”

“Any idea involving more work than necessary is a stupid one,” Wynonna says. “I read that on a fortune cookie once.”

“No, you didn’t,” Nicole argues. “ _ Bobo _ said that.”

“Well, he’s not stupid.”

“His name is  _ Bobo _ ,” Nicole points out. 

Wynonna sighs. “So, what’s the plan?”

Nicole grins widely. “I need you to convince her to go to prom.”

“And how am I doing that?”

“Figure it out! You’re  _ smart _ , Wynonna.”

Wynonna clicks her tongue. “I can’t even spell good.”

Nicole shakes her head, taking a deep breath. “There’s all kinds of smart, okay? Teachers don’t tell you about it because different kinds of smart don’t get good test scores. But, like, people can be people-smart.  _ You’re _ people-smart.”

Wynonna is quiet for a moment. “What does that even mean?” she asks slowly.

“It  _ means _ ,” Nicole stresses. “That you know how to talk Waverly into doing something. And I need you to talk her into going to prom. But not with me.”

“With who?” Wynonna hisses.

“With Chrissy Nedley,” Nicole says proudly.

“With- with  _ Chrissy _ ,” Wynonna sputters.

“As friends,” Nicole clarifies. “You know. Like how you and Valdez are friends.”

Wynonna grinds her teeth together so hard Nicole can almost hear them. “I’m going to kick your- Okay, Dolls. Okay.  _ Chill _ , bro.” There’s a muffled sound, like another hand on the receiver. “Dolls. What a jokester.”

“Dolls? A  _ jokester _ ?” Nicole asks when Wynonna hums in her ear again. “Really?”

“Shut up,” Wynonna hisses. “I panicked.”

Nicole waves a hand that Wynonna can’t see. “Listen, this is my plan.”

“I’m listening,” Wynonna says after a full minute of silence. “And I’m also making a roast beef sandwich.”

“Oh,” Nicole says. She opens the refrigerator again. “That sounds good.” She roots through the deli drawer but all they have is cheese.

“The plan,” Wynonna prompts.

“The plan, right.” Nicole closes the refrigerator door. “You’re going to convince her that she can’t skip out on her prom. It’s her  _ senior _ prom. She needs to go. And she needs to go with Chrissy.”

“And you’re going to…”

Nicole picks up the cue. “ _ I’m _ going to try on Nathan’s tuxedo, see what needs to be altered, and then show up and whisk Waverly off to prom.”

“You’re bringing a boombox, aren’t you?”

Nicole’s cheeks burn. “Maybe,” she grumbles. “Can you do it, or what?”

“Can I… Can  _ I _ do it?” Wynonna scoffs. “Of course I can do it. Can  _ you _ ?”

“We’re gonna find out,” Nicole breathes out, her voice airy and hopeful. “I’m going to pick a song and stand on the lawn and beg, if I have to.”

“What kind of romantic comedy movie do you live in,” Wynonna grumbles, barely audible over the line.

“The one where the girl gets the girl,” Nicole fires back, hanging up. 

She open the drawer next to the silverware and pulls out the phonebook, flipping pages until she gets to the N’s. She scans a finger down the list, finding  _ Nedley, Randy _ . She picks the phone back up and dials, hoping the Sheriff isn’t home.

“Nedley residence,” Chrissy says brightly.

“Chrissy, hey. It’s Nicole.” She waits a second, the silence awkward. “Nicole Haught.”

“Obviously,” Chrissy snorts. “What’s crackalackin’, Romeo?”

“I need your help.” Nicole holds her breath. Wynonna was an easy sell; Chrissy will be harder. They’re friends now, sure. Chrissy was Nicole’s saving grace during those long weeks while Nicole struggled to talk to Waverly. They bonded over their love of Alyssa Milano, bad daytime shows, and the way Joe Elliott could work a microphone. But Chrissy is still Waverly’s friend, first and foremost. 

Nicole is counting on that.

“Does it have anything to do with Waverly and prom?” Chrissy finally asks.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Nicole breathes out. “It has  _ everything _ to do with that.”

“Well, then. I’m in.”

Nicole exhales noisily, a tightness in her chest loosening. 

“What do you need from me?”

Nicole looks out the kitchen window, at Nathan standing in the driveway. He’s in shorts and a cutoff Bon Jovi ‘ _ New Jersey _ ’ t-shirt, a bucket in one hand and a sponge in the other. She can hear his  Panasonic RX-FT600 Dual Deck Boombox blasting out Billy Idol’s “Cradle of Love” over the sound of the hose running as it fills another bucket. 

“Convince Waverly she  _ can’t _ skip prom. I need her to want to go again.” Nicole taps her foot anxiously, shoving her free hand into her pocket to avoid chewing at her thumb. 

“So, I’m convincing her to go with you?”

“Oh, no.  _ No _ . With you,” Nicole corrects. “Convince her to go with you. As friends. Tons of people do that. Right?”

“Enough,” Chrissy agrees. 

“Wait,” Nicole practically shouts, something occurring to her. “Are you already going with someone?”

“No,” Chrissy says. “Well, Jeremy. But as friends.”

“Okay,” Nicole breathes out, relieved.

“So, convince her,” Chrissy repeats. “And then what?”

“That’s your part. Convince her to go with you. And I’ll do the rest.”

Chrissy hums in her ear. “You’re kind of dramatic, did you know that?”

“I don’t know why people keep saying that,” Nicole whines. “Okay. That’s all I need from you.” She lets out a slow, even breath. “Thank you.”

“Hey!” Chrissy shouts in her ear as she goes to hang up.

“What?” Nicole asks.

“Just tell me one thing. Are you going to make her a mixtape?”

Nicole clenches her teeth together, eyes narrowed.

Chrissy laughs in her ear. “I  _ knew _ it. And  _ that’s _ why people call you dramatic.”

“Good _ bye _ , Chrissy.”

“Bye!” Chrissy sings.

Nicole hangs up and does a runthrough of her mental checklist.  _ Convince Wynonna to convince Waverly,  _ check.  _ Get Chrissy on board _ , check.  _ Detail the car _ , check. She goes back upstairs, and comes to a stop in front of her bedroom door. Nathan must have pulled out the tuxedo before he went outside, because it’s hanging on her door, all crisp lines and silky fabric. She runs a hand across the collar, taking a deep breath.

She peels off her t-shirt and her jeans, standing in front of her closet mirror for a moment. She lays out the tuxedo piece by piece, pulling the shirt on one arm at a time. The sleeves are a little big, the edges coming down and resting on her knuckles. She pushes them up a little for now, reaching for the pants. Nathan was right; they’ll need to be hemmed. They’re the same height now, but Nicole’s legs are a little slimmer. She pinches back some of the fabric, tightening the material around her ankles. She lets it go and wonders if Linda will even be able to do anything about it.

Nicole peeks out the window, cranking her neck to try and see where Nathan is. The driveway is on the side of the house, and the view from her room isn’t the best, but she can hear Billy Idol and water running.

She ignores the cummerbund, hanging it over her desk chair. She has to really think to remember who Nathan went to prom with, but a name doesn’t come to her. All she can remember is the girl’s wild red hair and how it clashed with the aquamarine color of her dress. 

She turns the collar up and wraps the bowtie around her neck. She’s never tied a bowtie on herself - just Nathan, for prom, and only after he accidentally messed up the knot their mom did so perfectly. She tips her head up, trying not to choke herself. Her fingers feel clumsy as she goes to the left instead of the right, the mirror confusing her for a moment. It takes her longer than she wants it to, but by the time she puts her head level again, the knot isn’t as bad as it could be.

“Looks good,” Nathan says from the doorway. “Can I, though?”

Nicole nods silently and he comes into her room, pausing in front of her. He smiles crookedly, adjusting the collar in the back where it puckered. “There,” he says. He picks the jacket up off the chair and holds it up, letting Nicole slides one arm in at a time. He brushes off the shoulders as it settles.

“How does it look?”

“Shoulders are a little big, but I figured that.” Nathan circles around her. “Pants need to be taken in.” He hums under his breath. “Otherwise, you look good for a girl who decided she’d finally take her girlfriend to prom a day before the actual prom.”

Nicole goes to punch him lightly in the shoulder, but he ducks out of her way and dances back towards the door.

“Car is all set. I did the rims and the fenders. I used that rinse and shine stuff on the body.” He squints, trying to remember what else he did. “Oh, I wiped down the whole inside and I used the leather cleaner you like. It’s under the carport and my poor Caddy is stuck out in the sun.”

“It won’t burn,” Nicole mutters.

“ _ You’re welcome _ ,” Nathan says pointedly. He grins and turns to leave.

“Nate, hold on.” She tugs the sleeves of the shirt further down over her hands. “Why’re you doing this, really?”

“ _ Really, _ really?”

Nicole nods.

Nathan shrugs. “Like I said. You’re my little sister. And I like Waverly.” He leans against the doorjamb. “Plus, I’m tired of listening to Van Halen. I mean, there’s only so much Sammy Hagar a man can take.” He tips his head to the side. “Though, it’s better than Tears for Fears, I guess.” He darts down the hall and down the stairs, stomping through the living room.

“Get bent!” she hollers after him, smiling.

She turns to look at herself. Right now, she looks like she’s 14 again, stealing Nathan’s clothes to go a funeral she doesn’t want to be at. Nothing fits right, and she’s worried she’s going to have to wear two pairs of socks just to get the shoes to fit. She leans down and pinches back the fabric of the pants again, nodding. If Linda can help, she can probably pull this off.

She takes everything off slowly, putting each item back on the hangers one at a time. She slides the whole tuxedo into the bag and pulls it over her shoulder.

“Nathan,” she hollers as she stomps down the stairs. “Can I borrow your car?”

Nathan lets out a soft squeal. “ _ No _ .”

“But you  _ just _ cleaned mine,” she argues. “What if I take it out from under the carport and a bird shits on it?”

He opens his mouth to argue back, but snaps it shut as the possibility occurs to him, too. His shoulders slump in defeat.

“I’m just going to Linda’s. That’s all,” she promises.

He nods towards the back door. “You know where the keys are.”

“Thank you!” She grabs the keys off the hook by the screen door and lets it slam behind her. 

“Don’t you are put a dent in it!” he hollers after her. “Or a scratch! And don’t hit any squirrels!  _ Or _ change my radio station!”

Nicole lays the tuxedo out across the front bench seat carefully. She slides into the driver’s seat, testing her reach to the pedals. Nathan’s car is nice; he worked hard every summer and saved every bill he got on his birthday and Christmas. He didn’t have quite enough to buy a car when he turned 18, but he took out a loan with the bank and their mom’s signature, and drove the used ‘75 Eldorado right off the lot.

She turns the engine over and listens to it hum for a minute before she fiddles with his radio dial, finding a better station. It’s a quick ride to Linda’s house, and Nicole is careful to park the car in the driveway, far away from where Cub’s hockey sticks are littered across the grass. She bounces nervously on the tips of her toes as she pushes the doorbell, the sound echoing inside the house. She jumps when the heavy door behind the screen opens.

“Well,” Linda says, staring at her through the screen door. “It’s about time you showed up.” She unlatches the screen from the inside. “Come on in, girl. Let’s see what we can do with you.”

“How did you-”

Linda waves a hand at her. “I have my ways.” She points to the living room. “Sit down. I was making coffee.”

Nicole sits immediately, her knees pressed tight together. She looks around Linda’s living room. She has the same kind of couch as Gus does, just in a different color. It’s worn down in different places and she shifts uncomfortably as a spring pokes into her leg.

Linda comes back into the room with two cups of coffee. Nicole jumps up, taking one of the cups from her.

“So, what do you have for me?” Linda asks, putting her coffee down on the small table in front of the couch. She gestures at the bag Nicole draped over the back of the couch.

Nicole reaches for the bag slowly. “Seriously, how did you know I was coming?”

“Your brother called me. He said you got yourself into quite the problem.”

Nicole sighs. “Bigmouth.”

“He cares about you. I do, too, for that matter.” She looks pointedly at Nicole. “But no one cares for you as much as Waverly Earp does.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “I know that.”

“Then act like it,” Linda says kindly. She gestures for the bag again.

Nicole hands it over and holds her breath as Linda unzips it, taking out Nathan’s tuxedo and laying it out. She studies each piece, eyes narrowed as she looks back and forth between the clothes and Nicole.

“What about a cummberbund?” Linda asks.

Nicole shakes her head. “No cummberbund.”

“Fair enough.” Linda hands her all of the clothes. “Go put it on, so I can see what I need to do. Bathroom is down the hall to the left.”

Nicole takes the bundle of clothes and finds the bathroom, changing quickly. Everything is just as big as it was at home, and she needs to pull the pants up as she walks back to the living room.

“Well,” Linda says, her voice flat. “You could have worn a bag with more shape to it.” She gestures to the middle of the living room. “Stand still and don’t move an inch. I don’t want Nedley knowing I poked his favorite rookie with a sewing needle.”

Nicole feels her face flush as Linda kneels down at her feet, pulling fabric together and placing pins. “He, uh,” she starts. “He wants to mentor me. Nedley, I mean.”

“I didn’t think you meant Prime Minister Mulroney,” Linda scoffs. She taps Nicole’s leg and Nicole spins. “Randy Nedley may look like a dull spade, but he’s smarter than most people give him credit for. If he chose you, he sees something there.”

Nicole feels her chest start to tighten. “You think so?”

Linda looks up, her eyes narrowed. “I do think so. You keep forgetting that this whole town knew Curtis, and Curtis liked to talk.”

That pressure on her shoulder is back, heavy and hot. 

“He knew you were a good one. Nedley knows it, too. And it doesn’t matter who doesn’t agree with that, because they must not know you, Nicole Haught,” Linda says sharply.

Nicole’s mind flashes to her dad, but she shoves it down and swallows heavily. 

Linda stands up and lifts Nicole’s arm, making small chalk lines on the jacket where she needs to sew. She takes it off Nicole’s shoulders and marks a line on the shirt. “Go get changed now.”

Nicole hands Linda the clothes when she’s done changing, lingering in the middle of the living room. She chews on her bottom lip, her pointer finger picking at the skin of her thumb for a quick second, just to relieve the itch. “Do you mind if I make a phone call?”

Linda doesn’t even look up from where she’s hemming, waving her hand in Nicole’s direction. “In the kitchen.”

Nicole dials the McCready’s house, anxiously tapping her foot against the tile. She sucks in a breath when she hears the the click of someone picking up.

“Hello?”

_ Waverly _ , Nicole thinks. Her chest tightens again, leaving her almost breathless.

“Hello?” Waverly asks again, a little impatiently.

_ Talk to her _ , Nicole tells herself.  _ Just tell her you were an insensitive hoser and that you want to take her to prom _ .

Waverly sighs. “Is anyone there?”

_ It’s me _ , Nicole thinks.  _ I’m sorry _ .

“Wynonna,” she says aloud, the words choked. She clears her throat, lowering her voice. “Wynonna there?”

“Is that for me?” she hears Wynonna say, her voice far away. 

There’s a small scuffle noise and then Wynonna is breathing in her ear. “Hey.”

“It’s me,” Nicole says quietly.

“Dolls, again,” Wynonna explains, her voice barely audible with what sounds like her hand over the receiver. 

Nicole can hear Waverly’s voice as she responds. “ _ Again _ ? Does Doc know he’s calling this much?”

Wynonna scoffs. “I can make my own choices.”

Waverly huffs, but her voice fades away.

“Alright, what?” Wynonna asks.

Nicole peeks back around the doorway, at Linda pulling a needle through her pants. “Did you talk to her?”

“It’s been an hour, dude. I can’t convince her to do anything in an  _ hour _ . She can’t even do her  _ hair _ in an hour.”

Nicole groans. “I’m panicking a little,” she admits.

Wynonna snorts. “No duh. Did you talk to Chrissy?”

“Right after I hung up with you.”

“I know,” Wynonna says. “She called here and convinced Waverly they  _ had _ to go, so they could make fun of whatever dress Stephanie Jones is going to wear. And to see everyone try and do the Robot.”

“ _ Wynonna _ ,” Nicole hisses. Linda looks up from her stitching, frowning. Nicole smiles widely and turns around, her mouth dropping immediately. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“You didn’t ask about Chrissy. You only asked if  _ I _ convinced her yet.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” Nicole groans.

“What cassette do you want me to play at your funeral?” Wynonna asks. The phone makes a hard cracking noise. “Shit,” Wynonna says, sounding far away before she’s back in Nicole’s ear. “I dropped the phone.”

“Karma,” Nicole mumbles. “So, she’s going with Chrissy?”

Wynonna hums. “And she’s been asking me what shoes will go best with her dress. You owe me  _ big _ after this. If she asks me what kind of  _ underwear _ she should wear, I’m telling her everything.”

Nicole nods. “That’s fine.”

“I want to keep that  Black Sabbath World Tour ‘78 shirt,” Wynonna argues. “For all my hard work, I mean.”

“You already have that shirt,” Nicole points out.

“Well, you can never ask for it back.”

Nicole grimaces. “I know you wore that shirt for a week straight without washing it. I haven’t wanted it back since, like, 1982.”

“So if I tell you that I got la-”

“Get bent!” Nicole hisses into the receiver.

“Oh, I-”

“Wynonna,” Nicole groans miserably.

“Fine, fine.” Wynonna lets out a heavy sigh. “So you got her to-” She cuts off quickly, her voice fading away. “No, I’m not  _ dirty-talking _ with  _ Dolls _ . Jeez, Waverly. What kind of airhead do you think I am?”

Nicole stifles a laugh.

“Just because your girlfriend is a bohunk who-” her voice fades abruptly.

“Nicole isn’t-” Waverly says, far away.

“Whatever,” Wynonna sighs, loud in her ear again. She’s quiet for a minute before she speaks again. Her voice is softer than Nicole remembers it being in a long time. “You’re not going to pull a dickweed move and bail on her, right?”

“Never,” Nicole says immediately.

“Because you’re my best friend, but I’d be obligated to punch you. Again.”

“Scout’s honor,” Nicole breathes out.

Wynonna scoffs. “You weren’t even a-”

Nicole hangs up on her.

She wanders back into the living room, standing uncomfortably in the doorway.

“You got yourself into a mess, girl,” Linda hums.

Nicole scratches at the back of her neck. “I know.”

“Let me tell you something my husband, Bud, always taught my boys,” Linda says, pulling down her glasses. “Treat those girls like you’re lucky to be standing near them. And when you mess up, admit it, then fix it.”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s what’s I’m trying to do.”

“And do you know what I told my daughter, the one who went Stateside?””

Nicole shakes her head.

“I told her, ‘make ‘em work for it, honey.’”

Nicole laughs for a minute before she sighs. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“It’s on  _ both  _ of you, assuming you know what the other is thinking. You can’t go through life like that,” Linda says firmly. “It’s not the foundation for a good marriage.”

Nicole feels her face flush at the idea of marriage. Linda readjusts her glasses, low on her nose, and bends her head back over the stitching. She works steadily down one leg, sewing the inside stitch before she sews the outside one. Nicole paces the living room, back and forth, staring at the pictures on Linda’s mantle. There’s her and her husband on their wedding day, another of them standing in front of this house. There’s a few of baby Cub, sitting in the lap of a man Nicole doesn’t recognize at first. His face looks familiar, though, and she scans the rest of the family portraits until she finds him again, younger this time, standing on a pair of hockey skates with Linda and Bud on each side of him. 

“My son,” Linda says.

Nicole jumps a little.

“Cub’s dad, David.” Linda points at the picture of David with Cub in his lap. “He left when Cub was a few months old. That boy has been mine ever since.”

Nicole opens her mouth, but decides against asking a question.

“It’s okay,” Linda says. “He’s made his choices.” She narrows her eyes at Nicole. “But he assumed Cub’s momma wanted one thing, and she assumed he wanted another. And by the time they figured each other out, they had a baby. And they weren’t prepared to take care of a baby, let alone each other.” She points a finger in Nicole’s direction. “You do best to remember that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nicole says softly. 

Linda bends back over the pants, starting on the other leg. Nicole sits back down on the couch, picking up the copy of  _ Good Housekeeping _ on the coffee table. She finishes the pants and then shortens the sleeves, then turns to the jacket. Nicole watches her work, her fingers flying as fast as they do over a switchboard. Nicole doesn’t read more than a few pages in the magazine before Linda is dropping the jacket back down with a satisfied sigh.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Nicole says.

Linda waves a hand at her. “Don’t thank me until you try it on. Go ahead,” she adds, when Nicole doesn’t immediately get up.

“Oh, right.” She goes to take the pants, but Linda shakes her head. “Righ-right here?”

Linda rolls her eyes. “Oh, my. It’s not going to bother me any. If you were Johnny Mathis, maybe,” Linda says. “But you’re not. So don’t hide what you’ve got on my account.”

Nicole’s face feels even hotter as she slides out of her jeans. She folds them carefully, straightening out the leg before she puts them down on the couch. She taps her foot nervously against the floor, waiting for Linda to hand her the pants. 

“Put this on first,” Linda instructs, handing Nicole the shirt. 

Nicole pulls it on and starts buttoning from the bottom, leaving the top one undone so she can put the bowtie on later. Linda hands her the pants, taking one of her arms and checking the length of the sleeve. Linda hums her approval and steps back to let Nicole pull the pants on, one leg at a time. They  _ fit _ , snug right where they fall at her ankles. She wiggles a little in them, feeling like Ren McCormack on prom night. She grins at Linda.

“Perfect,” she breathes out.

Linda nods. “Of course they are.” She squints, eyeing Nicole. “Wait a minute.”

Nicole watches her leave the room and hears her feet on the stairs. She lifts her arms up and out, marveling at the way the sleeves fall perfectly on her wrists. She wonders how well they’ll roll, later in the night when she throws her jacket into the back of her car and asks Waverly if she wants to drive around for a while.

Linda comes back into the living room holding something black in her hands. She gestures for Nicole to turn around, sliding the silky material over Nicole’s shoulders easily. 

“A vest,” Nicole says.

“David's. I bought it for him for his wedding, but he never went through with it.”

Nicole starts to try and get out of it. “No, Linda, I can’t-”

“You can and you will,” Linda says sharply. “You cannot show up at prom looking like you’re going to your own funeral. Waverly wouldn’t stand for it, and neither will I.” She glares pointedly at Nicole. “Do I make myself clear?”

Nicole slowly buttons the vest, nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

Linda hands her the jacket and she slides it on, leaving it unbuttoned now that it fits. “Well, there you go, honey. Now you look like you’re going places.”

“Prom, hopefully,” Nicole mutters. She looks up at Linda. “I-”

“Don’t fall over yourself apologizing.” Linda waves a hand at her. “Just go fix it.”

“I plan on it,” she breathes out. She slips out of the tuxedo and carefully puts it back on hanger, zipping the bag back up. “Really, I-” She catches the look on Linda’s face. “Am shutting up, now,” she finishes.

Linda nods sharply. “You want a cookie for your drive to the station?”

“I’m driving to the station?” Nicole asks.

“You need the day off, don’t you?”

_ Fuck _ , she thinks again.

 

-

When she gets to the station, she’s suddenly self-conscious of her jeans and her Boston t-shirt. Diaz is manning the counter, mid-sip when she walks in. He swallows quickly and points behind him.

“Sheriff’s been waiting for you.”

Nicole swallows heavily. Just the other day, he was telling her how much potential she had. And here she is, in jeans and a  _ band _ t-shirt, asking for the night off. For  _ prom _ .

“Come in,” he bellows when she knocks.

Nicole pokes her head around the doorframe. “Hi, Sheriff. I was wondering if-”

“Come in,” he repeats.

She slips in through the door and closes it softly behind her.

Nedley looks up from his paperwork and gestures to the chair in front of his desk. Nicole sits wordlessly, picking at a loose thread on the knee of her jeans. She’ll need to cut it later. For now, she tries hard not to pick it, afraid the thread will pull. Nedley finishes the sentence he’s scribbling, capping the pen slowly and putting it in the ‘World’s Greatest Dad’ mug on the corner of his desk. 

“Waverly came in the other day.”

Nicole feels her face burn red. “Sir, I am so-”

“What made you feel like you couldn’t come ask me to have the day off yourself?” he interrupts.

She pauses. “Uh, what?”

He steeples his fingers on his desk, leaning in. “I asked, what made you think you couldn’t come in here and ask me yourself?”

“I-” Nicole swallows. “I’m the rookie, sir. I know I should wait a while before I start asking for time off.”

“Says who?” he barks. “I’m in charge of this department. I get to tell people when it’s time for them to do whatever they want to do.”

Nicole shrinks back a little in her seat, trying to keep her shoulders straight. “Right, sir.”

Nedley’s eyes drift to the bookcase on the side of the room, to the picture frame there. It’s a picture of Nedley and Chrissy, when she was much younger. There’s another woman, smiling at both of them. “My wife,” he says.

“She’s very pretty.”

Nedley nods. “She was beautiful. She was a year younger than me,” he says. “The first year I was on the force, she had her prom. I dressed up in my suit and came into the station.” He leans back now, sinking into his chair. “I sweat so bad I had to have my mother resteam the whole thing, just to get the stains out.”

Nicole is suddenly glad she didn’t wear her tuxedo over here.

“I asked to talk to the Sheriff at the time, Cecil Wright. He made me go through a whole presentation on why I needed the night off, but in the end, he didn’t give it to me.”

Nicole blinks a few times. “He didn’t?”

Nedley shakes his head. “He told me I was the rookie and I had to pay my dues. So I hung up that tuxedo and put on my uniform and spent the night calling parents to come get their kids.”

Nicole can feel the dread rising in her throat. Her stomach turns over.  _ He’s teaching me a lesson _ , she thinks to herself.  _ He’s going to tell me that this helped him become Sheriff, this dedication to the job _ .

“Two years later, that sonofabitch had the nerve to ask me if he was invited to my wedding.” Nedley shakes his head. “Anyway, I expect you to make up the shift,” he says, his voice deep.

Nicole blinks again, trying to catch up. “What?”

“I expect you to come in on your next day off, and work. Or you can pull a double and see how the night shift operates on a regular day of the week,” he clarifies. “Is that alright with you?”

Nicole nods. “Of course, sir.”

_ He’s going to let me go _ , she thinks.  _ He’s giving me the day off. _ She feels her head spinning. 

“And for you to keep on an eye on Chrissy,” he continues. His mouth turns down. “That Perry Crofte boy called the other night asking after her to help with a homework problem.”

“I see, sir,” Nicole says, fighting a smile.

“No one calls about homework after 8 o’clock at night.”

Nicole coughs to hide her laugh. “No, sir.”

Nedley nods firmly. “Those are my conditions. Can you meet them?”

Nicole straightens up, her face serious. “Yes, sir.”

He points towards the door. “Then you better go home and get ready. I hope you’re not wearing…  _ that _ ,” he says, eyeing her t-shirt.

“No, sir,” she assures him. “Linda helped with the tuxedo.”

“Good.” He looks back down at his paperwork, picking up his pen.

Nicole gets up and moves around the chair, reaching for the doorknob.

“And Haught?”

She turns. “Yes, sir?”

“Tell Waverly that her presentation was okay.” He makes a face. “I liked her for and against list, but the pie chart was a bit much. Next time, she should let you come in, okay?”

Nicole’s mouth drops open before she can catch herself. She swallows, nodding quickly. “Right, sir. It won’t happen again.”

She drives home with the windows down, her hand in the wind, and sings along to the radio.

_ “There's still some fight in me, that's how it'll always be. Hold your head up high, look 'em in the eye, never say die.” _

 

-

“Stop tugging at it,” Nathan says. “I  _ know _ how to tie one of these.”

“When you’re wearing it,” Nicole argues. “But it’s on  _ my _ neck and you’re choking me.”

“Are you sure I can’t come and take pictures, honey?” her mom asks.

Nicole groans. “Mom, I have a plan.”

“It’s just that I didn’t get any last year and-”

“I didn’t go last year, mom,” Nicole interrupts.

Her mom sighs. “I know that. I’m just saying… You look so handsome.”

Nicole softens a little, her hands going slack and dropping from Nathan’s wrists, where she’d been trying to pull him away from her bowtie. She watches her mom slowly close up the Polaroid 600 OneStep Flash she’s holding, the one Nicole and Nathan got her for Christmas last year.

“How about I take it?” she offers. “And I can take a few pictures of Waverly and she can take a few of me. And then someone can take a couple of the two of us.”

Her mom finally nods. “Only if it’s not Wynonna. She’s broken two of my toasters, and I can barely afford to replace those, let alone this camera.”

Nicole winces. “That was, like, ten years ago, mom.” She chews on her bottom lip as she remembers how  _ she _ broke the toaster and  _ Wynonna  _ took the fall for her.  

“I love that girl, but I don’t know where she learned to stick a knife into a toaster like that,” her mom continues. “It’s a wonder she didn’t electrocute herself. Imagine what she could do with a camera.”

Nicole flinches again. She nearly  _ had _ electrocuted herself, but Wynonna pulled her hand off the knife before she got it all the way down to the bottom of the toaster. When her mom looks up at her, Nicole plasters on a smile. 

“I’ll ask Gus.”

Her mom sighs heavily again, but puts down the Polaroid. “I want one before you leave, though. With your brother.” She shakes her head. “I still can’t believe Linda took that old thing and made it into…  _ this _ .”

Nicole smoothes her hands down the front of her white shirt. It’s heavy with starch and smells a little like the cologne Nathan uses, but it fits perfectly. She has it tucked into the tuxedo pants, pulled down tight all the way around. She had wanted to roll the sleeves, but Nathan told her the jacket would look too bulky and she would look like a noob in just a vest and shirt and bowtie.

“I’ve almost got it,” Nathan says, reaching for her neck again.

Nicole swats at his hands. “Get away from me.”

Her mom steps between them, shouldering Nathan back a step. “I’ll do it. I did it for Nathan, I can do it for you, too.” Her fingers are light and quick and she steps back just as soon as she stepped in, nodding her approval. “There. It’s all set.”

“It doesn’t look half-bad,” Nathan agrees, shrugging one shoulder.

“Now the vest,” her mom decides, pulling it off the ironing board. She holds it up and open.

Nicole turns and slides her arms in, one at a time. She barely feels the weight of the silk sitting on her shoulders, but it’s cool against her sides as she buttons it, three up. She turns back around, waiting expectantly.

“Oh, honey,” her mom breathes out, her eyes wet.

Nathan coughs. “Yeah. That works.”

Nicole socks him in the shoulder, catching him this time. “Thanks,” she mumbles. “For, you know.”

“Just ask her next time, would ya?” he grumbles, rubbing at his shoulder. “Instead of being so dramatic, I mean.”

Nicole opens her mouth to argue with him, but catches sight of the clock on the wall. “ _ Shit _ ,” she hisses. She looks quickly at her mom. “I mean.  _ Crap _ . I have to leave. She’s supposed to ‘meet Chrissy’ in, like, thirty minutes.”

“I want a picture first!” her mom shouts as Nicole darts through the living room, up the stairs, and into her room. She grabs her old Hitachi TRK 5030E, sitting on the bookshelf in front of her row of  _ Rolling Stone _ magazines. The tape she made Waverly, with just one song on it, is already in the deck. She presses play experimentally, sighing in relief when the boombox starts up. It’s been tricky lately, playing only when it wants to.

Nicole dreads the day it finally stops working. She’s pretty sure that’s what Don Mclean was singing about in “American Pie.”

When she bounds back down the stairs, Nathan in standing in the middle of the living room while her mom fusses over him. He’s got a clean white t-shirt on instead of the Skid Row shirt he was wearing earlier, the one he ripped the sleeves off of, and she’s telling him to tuck it into his jeans.

“One picture and then you can go,” her mom promises. She gestures at Nicole, the camera in her hand. “Right there in front of the end table.” She peers through the viewfinder. She pulls back, frowning. “Nathan, you look like I’m forcing you to take this.”

“You are,” he points out.

Her mom glares at him.

“All right, all right.” He straightens up, throwing an arm across Nicole’s shoulders, pulling her close to his side “Better?”

“Much,” her mom says, lifting the camera up to her eye again. “Say cheese!”

“Cheese” Nicole and Nathan say at the same time.

The camera flashes, blinding them.

Nicole blinks the spots out of her eyes just in time for her mom to request another picture. She grimaces and puts on a smile, eyes on the clock on the wall.

When her mom asks for a third picture, Nicole groans. “I have to go. I  _ promise _ I will get more, okay? I just need to get ot the house before Waverly realizes Chrissy isn’t coming.”

Her mom sighs. “Fine.”

Nicole grins and and grabs her keys off the hook by the back door. She reaches for the screen door handle, pausing for a second. “Nate?”

Nathan pulls his head out of the refrigerator. “What?” he asks, half an apple in his mouth.

“Thanks,” she says quietly. “For the tuxedo and the car and-”

He waves a hand at her. “Don’t mention it.  _ Ever _ .”

Nicole nods sharply. “Deal.”

Her mom grabs her arm and squeezes. “Have a good time, and be safe. I…” Her cheeks flush a little. “You know, I gave Nathan the whole sexual education talk when it was his-”

“Mom!” Nathan shouts, apple spewing from his mouth.

“No, no,” Nicole starts, backing up. Her shoulders hit the mesh behind her. “We  _ don’t _ have to have this conversation.”

“I want you to know about safety before you-”

Nicole grabs for the door handle in a panic, clutching her Hitachi to her chest. She moves closer to her mom only to open the door. She stumbles backwards down the steps. “Seriously, mom.  _ Please _ .”

Her mom follows, talking through the screen door. “Honey, your first time is-”

Nicole nearly trips over the dress shoes she’s wearing, her face burning. “ _ No _ ,” she breathes out. “I’m leaving. I’ll be home late.”

“It’s okay if you stay at the McCreadys’,” her mom calls after her. “Just be safe!”

Nicole gets in the car, locking her arms and bracing her hands on the wheel. She takes a few deep breaths before she slips the keys into the ignition. Her car roars to life, her Def Leppard  _ Hysteria _ tape in the deck. Her face flushes hotter. She hits the eject button and lets the tape sit in the slot as she backs down the driveway. Her mom is still standing in the back door, waving at her. Nicole rolls down her window and throws an arm out.

The short drive feels even shorter, but she’s still sweating a little under her collar by the time she turns onto Homestead Ave. She taps nervously against the steering wheel, pulling her car over against the curb, a few houses down. She checks the dashboard clock, grabs her Hitachi, swallows heavily, and gets out.

Her shoes scratch against the loose gravel and sink into the soft grass as she crosses the lawn to the McCreadys’ front steps. The boombox bumps against her leg as she climbs the steps. She fingers a lock of hair that slipped out from behind her ears and tucks it back into place. She hadn’t known what to do with it, so she had her mom trim the dead ends and she just let it be. She checks her reflection in one of the living room windows and takes a deep breath and stabs her finger forward.

The doorbell echoes inside the house. 

Nicole sings one chorus of “Gods of War” before the doorknob turns and the heavy inside door opens.

“Haught  _ damn _ ,” Wynonna says, whistling through the screen door. “You look like one of those models at the department store.”

“Mannequins,” Nicole corrects.

“Man the what?”

“Nevermind,” Nicole breathes out. “Is she-”

“Upstairs, doing her hair,” Wynonna says. “She’s been arguing with me about shoes for the last thirty minutes. I only got her to leave it alone when I pointed out that Chrissy would be here soon.” Wynonna peers around Nicole’s shoulder. “Is Chrissy coming here?”

Nicole shakes her head. “I talked to her last night. Jeremy should be picking her up right about now, in his mom’s minivan.”

Wynonna sighs. “Poor Chrissy. Jeremy  _ and _ a minivan.”

Nicole shrugs. “She said she was fine going with him. They’re friends.”

“Her funeral,” Wynonna mutters. “Am I getting her down here or…”

Nicole shakes her head quickly. Knocking on the door took nearly all her courage and she needs a minute before Wynonna just calls Waverly down here.

“Are you just going to stand out there on the porch, then?”

“Yeah. Yes,” she says, more sure of herself.

Wynonna shrugs. “Whatever, noob. What’s your plan, anyway?”

Nicole taps her hand against the Hitachi she’s holding.

Wynonna whistles again and kicks the screen door open. “You still have that thing?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Wynonna reaches for it. “I thought it died, or something. It’s, like, a hundred years old.”

“It’s only 15 years old,” Nicole defends, pulling the boombox out of Wynonna’s reach. “Don’t touch it.”

“Why not? Just give it to me,” Wynonna says, coming out of the doorway.

Nicole takes a step back. “No. You’ll break it.”

“No, I won’t,” Wynonna argues. “I just want to touch it.”

“Just like you only wanted to touch Nathan’s  _ Star Wars _ Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots?”

“Yeah,” Wynonna agrees.

“Well, you  _ broke _ those,” Nicole reminds her. She’s still backing up, the heels of her feet edging closer to the stairs.

For a second, the sky darkens and the air gets cold. Her shoes are gone and she’s in socks, the ghost of Waverly’s hands on her hips as Wynonna pulls back and aims her fist right at Nicole’s mouth. 

She blinks and Wynonna’s hand is still coming at her. This time, it grabs for her arm, tugging her forward.

“Dude, watch it,” Wynonna scolds. “You went through all this unnecessary work for nothing, if you slip and fall off the stairs.

“Right,” Nicole pants, trying to slow her breathing. She grabs Wynonna’s wrist, squeezing softly. “Thanks.”

“Well, whatever,” Wynonna says uncomfortably. “It would be a bitch to explain to Waverly, I mean. And Gus.”

“I love you, too,” Nicole says.

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Okay. I’m done with this conversation.”

“Wynonna!” Waverly calls from inside the house.

Her voice shocks Nicole, knocking her down one step. She nearly drops her Hitachi, ignoring when Wynonna stares pointedly at her, giving her an obvious ‘ _ you _ almost broke it’ look.

“I’m not ready,” she hisses at Wynonna.

Wynonna frowns. “What else do you have to do? You don’t have, like, balloons or anything, right?”

Nicole backs down another step. “I-I,” she stutters. Her eyes widen. “ _ What if she says ‘no’ _ ?”

Wynonna snorts. “She’s not going to-” She stops, looking at Nicole’s face. “Dude, she’s not going to say ‘no’ to you.” She peers through the screen into the dark hallway. “But I guess you’re about to find out.”

“Wynonna, come on. I need your opinion. I think I’m finally done.” Waverly pauses. “Who are you talking to?” she asks, pushing open the screen door at the same time.

She steps out onto the porch and Nicole’s hand slips, her fingers skipping over the ‘play’ button without enough pressure to make to make it play longer than a half a second of the song. 

“Nicole, Waverly,” Wynonna introduces. ”Waverly, this is your bonehead girlfriend, Nicole.”

“Nicole,” Waverly breathes out. “You’re-”

“You look beautiful,” Nicole manages, her throat closing. “Like…  _ aces _ .”

Waverly’s eyes narrow. “Are you making fun of me?”

Nicole takes a step forward, up one stair. “No. No.  _ Never _ .”

Waverly tugs at the white ruffled skirt. Nicole watches her hand, following the line of the dress up, over the black bodice. It’s a strapless dress, cutting across Waverly’s chest in a straight line. Her hair is long, the way Nicole likes it best, and wavy, pulled back on top so it’s out of her eyes. Nicole’s eyes follow the black back down to the white skirt and down Waverly’s legs, to the black sheer tights and thin-strap black heels she’s wearing.

“Never,” she promises again. 

Waverly steps closer to the stairs, her heels clicking against the porch. “You look-”

“Wait,” Nicole says. She lifts the Hitachi in her hands. ‘I have… There’s a plan.”

Waverly smiles softly. “Nicole, you don’t-”

Nicole shakes her head. “You deserve the whole thing,” she says. “You deserve the music and-and the come down the stairs and have everyone looking at you.”

“Who else would we look at?” Wynonna mutters.

Nicole ignores her, eyes on Waverly. “I should have been excited to go to prom with you. I should have asked my mom to rent a car and let you pick out what color we were going to wear. And-and, I should have gotten a corsage and an boutineer. And that’s… It’s too late for that now, but we can still do the rest.”

Waverly’s mouth parts slightly.

“I have a plan,” she repeats. “So, I need you to go back inside and when you hear the music, you can come back out, okay?”

Waverly frowns. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Nicole whispers. 

It takes a second, but Waverly finally nods, turning delicately and slipping back across the porch and into the house. Nicole sets the Hitachi down on the stairs, angling it towards the house. She straightens her shoulders and adjusts her bowtie, taking a deep breath.

“Hit play,” she whispers to Wynonna.

Wynonna looks down. “You want  _ me _ to hit play?”

“Wynonna, just be  _ nice _ to me, for once in your life?” she whispers harshly.

Wynonna pouts. “I’m  _ nice _ ,” she grumbles, but leans down and presses ‘play’ on the boombox.

_ “Saying I love you, _ ” Gary Cherone croons.  _ “Is not the words I want to hear from you. It’s not that I want you not to say it, but if only knew how easy it would be to show me how you feel _ .”

The screen door opens.

“ _ More than words is all you have to do to make it real _ .”

Waverly steps out onto the porch, the early-evening sun catching the glass light fixture on the siding. It twinkles above Waverly. 

_ “Then you wouldn’t have to say that you love me _ .”

Nicole swallows against the lump building in her throat, shoving her hands into her pockets. She gives Waverly a soft smile.

“ _ Cause I’d already know _ .”

Waverly glides across the porch and comes down the steps, her eyes wet. “I love this song,” she says softly.

“I know.” Nicole smiles wider. “It’s why I picked it.”

Waverly stops on the bottom step, crooking her finger at Nicole. “Come here.” She catches Nicole’s jacket lapel and tugs her gently, Nicole’s dress shoes bumping against the bottom step as Waverly leans down and kisses Nicole. “Thank you,” she breathes out.

“Waves, I am so-”

Waverly shakes her head. “Later. I’m having my moment right now.” She leans back in, her tongue sliding against Nicole’s bottom lip.

“ _ What would you do if my heart was torn in two? More than words to show you feel, that your love for me is real.” _

Waverly’s hands curl around the back of her neck, holding her still as she breaks the kiss and presses their foreheads together. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome,” Nicole whispers.

“You two look smart,” Gus says from somewhere behind Waverly.

Nicole eases back, her hand lacing with Waverly’s.

Gus is standing in the doorway, leaning up against the frame. She looks at Waverly, her eyes dark and soft. “Baby girl, you look… Very, very pretty.” Her eyes drift to Nicole. “And you look very handsome.”

Nicole feels herself straighten up. “Thank you.”

Gus smiles. ”I’m glad you came to your senses.”

Nicole flushes. “Oh. You heard about that?”

Gus looks at Waverly. “Someone was slamming my doors all week. I couldn’t  _ not _ hear about it,” she says, unimpressed.

Waverly’s hand twitches in her own.

Gus nods. “Shouldn’t you girls be getting on your way? They do pictures at the door, don’t they?”

“Oh, crap,” Nicole breathes out. “Pictures. I told my mom I would take pictures.” She groans. “I forgot the camera.”

Gus looks at Wynonna. “Go get that Polaroid Curtis kept in the closet, would you? I think it might work.”

Wynonna protests but goes inside, stomping through the house.

Waverly turns, pressing her forehead to Nicole’s shoulder.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to be safe,“ Gus says, her voice low. 

“No,” Nicole says firmly. “Of course not.”

Gus nods. “I didn’t think so.” She pauses. “You know, if Curtis were here, he’d probably lecture you on how you should be treating Waverly tonight.”

Nicole squeezes Waverly’s hand. “I’m sure.”

“But since he’s not, I’ll do it.” She points a finger at Nicole. “You’ve always been one of my own, Nicole Haught. I can smell a lie on you a mile away. So I am going to ask you this one time, and one time only. Will you be drinking tonight?”

Nicole shakes her head, her movement sharp and sure. “No.”

Gus continues to glare at her for a minute before her eyes soften. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Wynonna asks, coming back out onto the porch. “Just like that?”

“Nicole doesn’t lie,” Gus says simply.

Wynonna’s jaw drops open, her arm dropping as Gus takes the Polaroid 630 Lightmixer from her. “What about when she hiding that she was dating Waverly?”

Gus shrugs. “Did you ask her about it?”

Wynonna frowns. “Well. No.”

Gus shrugs again. “Then it wasn’t lying. It was just hiding. And I knew about it anyway.”

Waverly gasps. Nicole chokes on a cough.

“What?” Gus asks. “You thought you were being sneaky?”

“Yes, “ Nicole manages around her throat closing.

Gus snorts. “You were about as sneaky as that Holliday boy.”

“I’ve been dating him since kindergarten, Gus. You can call him  _ Doc _ ,” Wynonna points out.

Gus shrugs. “I will when I choose to.”

“So, wait,” Waverly finally says. “You  _ knew _ ?”

“Curtis didn’t marry me so he could be the smart one,” Gus says. “I figured it out around the third time you left your car idling in my driveway, letting the windows fog up. And that old Bumblebear down the road called me every time you two parked that boat in front of her house.”

“ _ Goddamnit _ ,” Nicole hisses. 

“Stand still, girls,” Gus instructs, lifting the camera and taking a picture. It spits out of the camera and starts to come into focus. Nicole is staring blankly into the camera and Waverly is looking off to the side.

Nicole blinks, still trying to catch up. Waverly’s hand is slack in her own. 

“Look alive,” Gus calls. She takes another picture. 

“Wait, wait,” Waverly starts, finally catching up. “We need to pose.” She tugs Nicole back up the stairs. “Gus, take it from the sidewalk.”

Gus and Wynonna stand on the sidewalk, waiting as Waverly pushes and pulls Nicole into different positions. They try the kind of pictures Nicole has seen before: Nicole standing tall, Waverly turned into her front; the two of them turned in towards each other, their hips pressed tight; side by side, Nicole’s arm over Waverly’s shoulders; Nicole behind Waverly, her arms around her, lacing with Waverly’s at her waist. Wynonna comments on all of them, rating them and giving suggestions. 

“More,” she commands. “Just, climb on her back, Nicole. She’s strong enough to lift you.”

They take them until Waverly is laughing too hard to pose and Nicole is red in the face.

“We need to go,” Waverly gasps. She clutches Nicole’s arm for support as they go down the stairs, looking through all of the pictures as they come out. She holds out one of them, the one with Waverly’s hand on Nicole’s chest, her hips pressed against Nicole’s. “I like this one.”

Nicole smiles. “Me, too.”

“ _ Dweebs _ ,” Wynonna drawls.

Nicole rolls her eyes. “Like I said. I love you, too, Wynonna.”

“Girls be safe,” Gus calls as she climbs the stairs. “I have dinner in the oven. You two coming back here tonight?”

“Wait a minute! She gets to have a  _ sleepover _ ?” Wynonna shouts. “I had to have Five-O drive me home,” she says, pointing at Nicole.

Gus doesn’t answer and lets the screen door slam shut behind her. 

“And don’t slam my doors!” Wynonna yells. She turns to Nicole and Waverly. “Now, you two-”

Waverly rolls her eyes and tugs Nicole by the arm. “Come on, baby.”

Nicole shrugs at Wynonna and follows Waverly back across the lawn, towards her car. 

“Wait,” Wynonna shouts as Nicole reaches for the door handle. She comes up to them quickly, throwing one arm around Nicole’s neck. “I love you, too,” she mumbles.

“I know,” Nicole says, grinning.

“Be safe.”

Nicole nods sharply. “Promise.”

“Clutch,” Waverly cuts in, her voice flat. “Can we go to prom now?”

Wynonna sticks her tongue out at Waverly. “If you two get divorced, I’m taking her side.”

Nicole feels her face flush at the idea of marriage.  _ Why does this keep coming up _ ? Nicole thinks. She pauses.  _ Would Waverly even want to marry me _ ?

Waverly pulls her out of her thoughts, covering her hand on the door handle. “It works better if you actually open it,” she teases.

“You look beautiful,” Nicole breathes out.

Waverly’s cheeks flush. “Are you going to say anything else tonight?”

Nicole shakes her head, smiling. “Probably not.”

Wynonna doubles over and pretends to gag.

“And that’s our cue,” Nicole says, pulling open the door. She steps back, letting Waverly move in front of her. 

Wynonna walks back across the lawn towards the front door, one hand extended high as she flips them off.

Waverly’s fingers dance across the front of Nicole’s jacket, into the pockets and around the button. She presses in, her heels bringing her nearly even with Nicole. “Have I told you how  _ clutch _ you look in this tuxedo? I knew a vest would look good.”

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip, self-conscious. “I’m sorry we didn’t have time to plan more of a couple’s outfit.”

Waverly is shaking her head before Nicole can finish her sentence. “You came. You showed up. You’re  _ so _ dramatic, but you’re  _ here _ .” Her nose bumps Nicole’s before their lips brush. “You’re coming to prom with me,” she breathes, her words hot against Nicole’s mouth.

“You’re not going to get to prom if you don’t leave,” Wynonna sings.

Nicole sighs and rolls her eyes, nudging Waverly into the car. She slides in after her, closing the door and leaning out the window. “Hold onto my Hitachi for me?”

Wynonna shrugs. “If I feel like it.”

“Wynonna,” Waverly says sharply, leaning across Nicole. “ _ Please _ do it so we can drive away now.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes, but sighs and nods. “Fine.  _ Fine _ . I will.”

Waverly grins, pressing a kiss to the curve of Nicole’s cheeks. “See, baby? We can go now.”

Nicole turns the car on. She rests her arm across the back of the bench seat, brushing her fingertips against Waverly’s bare shoulder. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready for this since I started high school,” Waverly breathes out.

Nicole revs the engine, just for the way Waverly presses closer into her side. “Then let’s go,” she says, shifting the car into drive before she puts her arm back.

Waverly squeals in her ear when Nicole punches the gas, shooting off the curb. 

 

-

The parking lot is nearly full by the time Nicole pulls in, Waverly leaning into her side, her fingertips walking across Nicole’s knee. Nicole parks a few spots down from Stephanie Jones’ 1989 Ford Mustang GT Convertible, sliding out of her car and offering Waverly her hand.

“I still can’t believe you,” Waverly breathes out, using Nicole’s shoulder to steady herself.

Nicole lets her hands drift to Waverly’s waist, squeezing gently. “Believe it, baby.”

“It was kind of-”

Nicole groans softly. “If you say  _ dramatic _ ,” she warns.

“ _ Romantic _ ,” Waverly corrects. “It was kind of romantic, you standing at the bottom of the stairs and Extreme playing.”

“And Wynonna making faces from the sidelines,” Nicole adds.

Waverly rolls her eyes. “She’s just jealous. Doc picked her up for prom on his Yamaha XS500E.”

Nicole stares blankly at Waverly, as if she’s supposed to know what that motorcycle looks like. 

“She wanted him to bring her on the Vincent Black Lightning,” Waverly finishes.

“Oh,” Nicole says, nodding. “I remember. I drove Doc home and he kept complaining that Wynonna was ‘unfairly aggravated with him’ because the Yamaha ‘was made for two people’ and the Vincent was not.”

“Right!” Waverly says. “Except that it fits two people fine.”

“That was Wynonna’s point.”

Waverly smiles and slides the hand on Nicole’s shoulder to the collar of her jacket. “You look so…  _ wow _ ,” she finishes. “I didn’t say that before.”

Nicole shrugs self-consciously. “It’s just Nathan’s old tuxedo.”

“I’ve seen the pictures. Nathan didn’t look this good in this tuxedo.” She trails her other hand down the front of Nicole’s shirt, catching on where the jacket sides meet. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t have time to-”

Waverly presses a finger to her lips, cutting her off. “We’re going to talk about it. But right now, we’re going to walk into prom and blow them all away.”

Nicole grins and holds out her arm, letting Waverly wrap her hand around the crook of her elbow. “After you, Ms. Earp.”

They weave through cars, falling in line behind other couples Nicole kind of recognizes, but can’t place in the dim lightning. She knows Waverly bought tickets for them - Wynonna told her how Waverly took a whole week’s paycheck from The Patch and spent them on tickets as soon as they were available. They inch closer to the door, dodging boys pushing each other around and girls comparing their outfits.

“Waverly!” someone shouts as soon as they get through the door.

Waverly spins, eyes scanning the crowd. “Chrissy!”

Nicole’s whole body jerks as Waverly drags her across the front lobby of the gym, near the trophy cases. Chrissy is standing by the football case, nearly bare compared to the hockey team’s trophies in the next case over. She’s in a turquoise blue dress with a double layer of fabric at the bottom, one of them pinned up into a wave of ruffles. Jeremy is standing next to her in a black tuxedo. When he turns, she can see he’s wearing a matching turquoise cummerbund and a-

“An  _ ascot _ ?” Nicole asks, reaching for the knotted fabric.

Jeremy leans away. “Don’t touch.”

Chrissy turns to glare at her. “Don’t touch it,” she repeats. “It took his mom thirty minutes to get right. She hairsprayed it into place.”

Jeremy puffs out his chest. “She said it made me look sophisticated.”

Waverly squeezes Nicole’s hand. “It does,” she assures him. And I love the way you matched colors.”

Chrissy points at Nicole’s tuxedo and Waverly’s dress. “You guys ended up matching, too.”

Jeremy laughs. “ _ Ended up _ ?” he asks. “I bet you’ve been planning this for  _ months _ . I like the vest, Nicole.”

Nicole feels her body tense.  _ Waverly probably has been planning this for months _ , she thinks to herself.

“Jeremy,” Chrissy hisses, elbowing him gently. “What did I tell you?”

It takes a second for Jeremy’s eyes to widen. “Oh.  _ Oh _ . Right. Canning it now.”

Waverly squeezes Nicole’s hand again. “It’s fine, Jeremy. We’re here, and we’re totally gonna have  _ the best _ time.”

Nicole lets her body relax. She drapes her arm around Waverly’s shoulders, tracing an ‘N’ and ‘W’ into her bare shoulder. “Yeah, we are.”

“Welcome to  _ Under the Sea _ ,” someone says, pointing them towards the gymnasium doors. “Get your picture taken right inside the doors and pick it up at the end of the night.”

Waverly tugs her towards the picture line, adjusting her bowtie for her as they move closer and closer to the front of the line. “You know what to do,” Waverly tells her, pulling Nicole’s arms around her waist before placing her flat palm against Nicole’s chest. They stand to the side as Jeremy and Chrissy try to figure out how to pose. Jeremy looks nervous to put his hands on Chrissy, looking at Nicole over his shoulder in between every post. Nicole works on biting her bottom lip to fight a smile as Waverly shouts out instructions. 

It’s not until she turns around that she understands the theme,  _ Under the Sea _ . The walls are draped in large, sheer blue sheets. Each table is a different color, an alternating sequence of turquoise, aqua, royal blue, sky blue, and midnight blue. There’s fishbowls on every table, filled with white and blue stones. The ceiling lights are shadowed in blue.

Nicole almost gets seasick.

Waverly sighs dreamily. “Oh, it’s  _ perfect _ .” 

She laces her arm through Nicole’s, pulling her toward a table just a little off the empty space that seems to be the dance floor. On a small stage towards the back of the room, Carl Junger is lifting a Pioneer VSX-D1S home stereo system onto a small folding table, plugging it into the speakers he’s stacked on each side of the table. 

Nicole raises an eyebrow, but Waverly only shrugs. “It was all our class could afford after we bought all these blue tablecloths.”

Stephanie Jones takes the microphone as soon as Carl has it plugged in and ready to go, her voice booming across the gym and ringing in Nicole’s ears. “Welcome, class of 1990, and all your dates. Unless you didn’t bring one,  _ Pete York _ ,” she says, her voice dropping low on Pete’s name.

“More options!” Pete shouts from somewhere in the darkened room.

“This year’s prom,  _ Under The Sea _ , is going to be the  _ best _ one yet.” Stephanie lets the crowd cheer before shushing them. “So put on your dancing shoes, get nice and close, and maybe you’ll end up getting to kiss the girl.”

Nicole groans. “Did she just-”

Waverly nods. “She did.”

Carl starts the night with the “Electric Slide.” A large cheer goes up through the crowd and it sweeps Nicole and Waverly up in it. They end up on the dance floor, shuffling and sliding around while Waverly sings along to Marcia Griffiths. 

She pulls Waverly in close, her hands resting on Waverly’s hips before sliding to the small of back. She grins, breathless for a moment as the disco balls spins above them, throwing dots of silver and blue out across the room. They dance through Waverly’s hair.

“Ice, Ice Baby” fades into Phil Collins’s epic drum solo and she’s in skates again, grabbing the sleeves of her flannel shirt, tied around Waverly’s waist. The neon signs shimmer pink and blue and when she leans in to kiss Waverly, they explode into stars.

“You okay?” Waverly asks in her ear, leaning in to be heard over Vanilla Ice.

Jeremy does the Roger Rabbit past them, breaking Nicole from her thoughts.

“I’m fine,” she shouts back. 

Nicole’s feet hurt after just a few dances, the tips of her dress shoes pinching her toes. She slips back into her seat when everyone starts line-dancing to “Achy Breaky Heart,” trying to stretch out her toes inside the leather shoes. She thinks about the Valentine’s Day dance, a lifetime ago, and how she spilled punch all over her brand new Reeboks, the ones her mom bought her for a special occasion. There’s a larger ache now, spreading through her body.

Waverly weaves through the crowd, dropping heavily into her lap. Nicole winces, but winds her arms around Waverly’s waist. The ache, building slowly in the pit of her stomach, fades away just as quickly as it came, replaced by a warm feeling she knows is because of Waverly. They sit like that, Nicole idly brushing Waverly’s hipbone as song after song goes by - “Jump” by Kris Kross, MC Hammer’s “U Can’t Touch This."

Nicole takes off her jacket somewhere between “Living on a Prayer” and “Forever Young,” dropping it on the back of her chair. She goes to roll her sleeves, but Waverly’s hands loop around her wrist, tugging her through the crowd and out into the lobby.

The air is cold this far away from the packed dance floor and the sweaty bodies. Nicole shivers a little, watching goosebumps spread across Waverly’s shoulders. From here, she can see the shadow of someone in a suit -  _ probably Pete,  _ she thinks - dumping the contents of a flask-looking container into the bowl of punch on the table.

“You didn’t drink the punch, right?” Nicole asks worriedly. Gus is in the back of her head. She’s seen that woman cut tomatoes before and it’s  _ terrifying _ to watch.

Waverly shakes her head. “Nope. You?”

“No.”

The door to the girl’s bathroom blows open, a few girls Nicole sort of remembers stumbling out and over each other, giggling and holding each other up. They drift past Nicole and Waverly, not even seeing them, and back into the gymnasium. Nicole watches them go, her eyes lingering on them before she finally looks back at Waverly. 

“Hey,” Waverly grins.

Nicole smiles widely. “Hey.”

“It’s a hundred degrees in there.” Waverly fans herself. “Worse than the kitchen at The Patch when the big fan goes out.”

Nicole reaches for Waverly, palming the curve of her hip before she tugs her close.

Waverly twirls out of her arms, her eyes sparkling. It feels like the parking lot at Shorty’s, Waverly pulling her flannel off and tying it around her waist.

Instead, she reaches for Nicole’s arm, straightening it out. She steadies it against her body, Nicole’s knuckles against Waverly’s stomach. Nicole swallows heavily, her hand twitching against Waverly’s stomach muscles.

“Do you trust me?” she asks, her voice barely audible over Alphaville.

Nicole smiles crookedly. “With what?”

Waverly undoes the button of her sleeve, looking back up to meet Nicole’s eyes.

“Oh,” Nicole breathes out.

Waverly pauses. “Or do you-”

Nicole shakes her head quickly. “It’s okay.”

Waverly smiles widely, her fingers light and quick as they fold back the cuff. She pokes the tip of her tongue past the seam of her lips, concentrating. She uses the cuff as a guide, rolling the sleeve back in one inch sections until the fabric is tight against Nicole’s skin, resting just above her elbow.

“Perfect,” Nicole critiques.

Waverly smiles softly. “I know what I’m doing.”

“So all those other times, when you do a sloppy job, you’re pretending?” Nicole teases.

Waverly nods. “Totally.”

Nicole pauses. “Wait.  _ Really _ ?”

Waverly grins. “Really. Your face gets red and there’s a small crinkle in your forehead every time I roll your sleeves wrong and it’s just… it’s so  _ cute _ .”

Nicole feels her jaw drop. “I-I,” she sputters. “I can’t  _ believe _ you.”

“There,” Waverly points, running her fingernail down between Nicole’s eyes. “Right there. That’s it.”

Nicole starts to pull her arm away, but Waverly grabs her other arm before she can get away, repeating the same thing: unbuttoning the sleeve, folding back the cuff, rolling up and above Nicole’s elbow.

“There,” Waverly says softly. She turns Nicole around, sliding her arms around Nicole’s waist from behind. Their reflection is clear in the trophy case. Nicole studies them both, grinning when she catches Waverly’s eye in the glass.

“Are you having fun?” Nicole asks.

Waverly grins back at her. “Yes,” she says simply. “Are you?”

_ Aren’t you having fun _ ? Shae had asked.

This time, Nicole nods. “Totally,” she breathes out. “Waverly, I-”

“Come on. I want to slow dance with you,” Waverly says, cutting her off. She pulls her onto the floor in the middle of an R&B song Nicole doesn’t know, looping Nicole’s arms around her waist.

“ _ Look, baby. Listen. Please forgive me for all the wrong I've done _ ,” someone sings. 

Waverly’s hands brush against the side of her neck before they slip into her hair, fingertips insistent as she tugs Nicole closer.

“This is the best night of my life,” she whispers over the song.

Nicole leans down, her forehead against Waverly’s. “It’s just a dance.”

_ It’s just a dance _ , she hears Shae say again. 

“It’s  _ prom _ ,” Waverly corrects. “With you. I didn’t…” She shrugs a shoulder, looking down at the ground. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

Nicole sighs, maneuvering them around Pete York, dancing with a different girl than the other two she saw him with before. 

Carl stops the song abruptly, a few seconds before it sounds like it’s supposed to fade out. 

“It’s the last song of the night!” Stephanie shouts, her mouth too close to the microphone she’s holding. “You guys voted and our Official Song this year is - drum roll please.”

Everyone stomps their feet against the polished wood floor.

“Is ‘More Than Words’ by Extreme!” Stephanie finishes.

Nicole feels her face flush. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs into Waverly’s ear.

Waverly pulls back enough to see Nicole’s face. “For what?”

“That I already played this song for you,” Nicole clarifies. “I didn’t know it was in the running for the final song.”

Waverly laughs softly. “It’s  _ perfect _ . It means so much more now, baby.” She presses her hips against Nicole’s, her elbows resting on Nicole’s shoulders.

The lights dim even more, the disco ball and blue lights casting a soft glow across Waverly’s cheekbones.

_ “Saying I love you is not the words I want to hear from you,” _ Waverly sings along softly. “ _ It's not that I want you not to say it, but if you only knew…” _

Nicole dips her head, catching Waverly’s bottom lip between her own. She can hear Waverly barely gasp before she kisses her back.

_ “How easy it would be to show me how you feel. More than words is all you have to do to make it real.” _

“Can I ask you something?” Waverly says, her lips brushing against Nicole’s asks she speaks.

“Anything,” Nicole breathes out.

“ _ Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me, ‘Cause I'd already know.” _

“Why didn’t you want come?”

Nicole can feel Waverly’s hands against her neck, twitching slightly. Nicole grips Waverly’s waist a little tighter.

_ It’s just a dance _ , Shae had said.  _ We’ll have a good time _ .

“My last dance,” she starts.

_ “What would you do if my heart was torn in two?”  _

“Was with Shae,” Waverly finishes. Her voice doesn’t break around Shae’s name like it usually does.

Nicole nods, her forehead bumping against Waverly’s. “I didn’t… it wasn’t  _ fun _ .” She frowns. “That’s not right. It…” She trails off, frustrated that she can’t find the right word.

Waverly smoothes her fingers down Nicole’s neck dipping below the collar of her shirt. “She was nice to you, right?”

Nicole lets her eyes drift closed as Waverly’s fingers graze her spine. She hums. “Yeah.”

_ “More than words to show you feel, that your love for me is real.” _

“It wasn’t  _ right _ ,” she finally manages to say.

Waverly’s fingers pause. Nicole forces her eyes open, staring straight into Waverly’s.

“What do you mean?” Waverly whispers.

_ “What would you say if I took those words away?” _

“She wasn’t…” Nicole takes a deep breath and tries again. She stops swaying, pulling Waverly tight against her body. “The whole night, I wanted it to be  _ you _ . I wanted to hold  _ your _ hand.” She slides a hand up Waverly’s arm, behind her own neck until she can lace her fingers through Waverly’s. “I wanted to slow dance with  _ you _ .”

She takes a deep breath. “The whole night, I kept closing my eyes and hoping,  _ praying _ , that when I opened them,  _ you _ would be there,” she confesses.

_ “Then you couldn't make things new, just by saying I love you.” _

“Come on,” Waverly breathes, her fingers looped gently around Nicole’s wrist. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

-

“I think they were going to crown Prom King and Queen,” Nicole says, even as she opens the door for Waverly slide into the car. She tries to fold her jacket neatly. Waverly had barely paused at their table long enough for Nicole to grab it, tossing a goodbye over her shoulder at Chrissy and Jeremy as they weaved through couples on the floor and out into the parking lot. 

Waverly waits until Nicole is in the car, the door closed firmly behind her, before she shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“But your prom-”

“I want to spend time with  _ you _ ,” Waverly breathes out. She leans in to kiss Nicole just as beam of light travels across the front of the car and onto, then past, Stephanie’s Ford. Nicole ducks, pulling Waverly down with her. 

Waverly laughs into Nicole’s mouth. “I think it’s Cryderman, checking cars.” She curls her fingers around Nicole’s knee. “Wanna motor?”

Nicole nods, her mouth dry. Her hand slips on the key twice before she gets the engine to turn over. Waverly’s hand flexes on her knee as they peel down a row of cars, passing Cryderman and his flashlight. 

She takes the turn onto Main Street too quickly, reminding herself to slow down - Diaz pulled the short straw tonight, and Nicole knows in about ten minutes, he’s going to be making his way towards the high school to round up the kids who drank too much punch. She eases up on the gas, letting the neon lights from the closed signs and the big marquee above Shorty’s soak into her skin through the windshield. Waverly is drawing circles on her knee, slipping her other hand into the perfect folds of her shirt sleeves and singing a lazy version of “More Than Words” that doesn’t follow anywhere close to the rhythm of the song.

“What do you have to listen to?” Waverly asks, reaching for the tape sticking out of the cassette player on the dashboard.

Nicole remembers a second too late that it’s  _ Hysteria _ , but Waverly is already pulling it out and holding it up. The neon from the big tomato in the window of The Patch catches the tape enough so Waverly can read it.

“I have other tapes,” Nicole says, trying to reach across Waverly to the glove box.

“No,” Waverly says, stopping her. She nudges her upright, putting  _ Hysteria _ back into the deck, starting it on Side A. “I like this one.”

Nicole looks over at Waverly just as a the blue and pink lights from Shorty’s, quiet on prom night, dance across her face. Something in her stomach turns, and her hands flex on the wheel, the car jerking slightly towards the right.

“Woah,” Waverly murmurs.

Nicole drops her hand to Waverly’s knee. “Sorry.” She squeezes softly.

Waverly runs her fingers up and down Nicole’s bare forearm, dancing over the top of her hand and back up again. “Where’re we going?” she asks.

Nicole shrugs. “I didn’t really have any ideas.”

“So we’re just going to ride around and blow through all the gas in your tank?”

Nicole smiles crookedly. “If that’s what you want to do. Unless… you want me to take you home?”

“So we can watch Wynonna and Doc make out on the couch because Gus is doing inventory tonight?” Waverly makes a face. “Nooo, thank you,” she sings.

Nicole taps against her steering wheel, matching the beat of “Women.” She chews on her bottom lip. “I mean, we could always go to-”

“Lover’s Lane,” Waverly finishes. 

“Yeah,” Nicole breathes out. “Yeah, we could do that. If you wanted.”

It’s early spring and the air has a chill to it that’ll snap when the sun comes up, but Nicole can feel the heat of Waverly’s body pressed in against hers, humming with something she can’t put her finger on. Waverly leans into the turns, her arms and hands sliding across Nicole’s legs like Waverly has no idea what it does to Nicole. Except every time she turns her head to look at Waverly, Waverly is looking right back.

“I want to,” Waverly says softly.

Nicole nods, urging her car forward towards the edge of town. They’ve only gone out to Lover’s Lane one time besides their first date, when Waverly had spent her whole shift at The Patch staring at Nicole across the dining room, brushing up against her as she passed. They knew Wynonna and Gus were home and Nathan had a bunch of the guys from work over for dinner, so they had driven up to Lover’s Lane for a few hours, windows fogged and the radio up.

It’s empty when they get there, the trees dark and leaning in around the cliff’s edge. Nicole puts the car in park, easing her foot off the gas. She taps the steering wheel, drumming along to “Armageddon It.” Waverly slides her hand up and down Nicole‘s leg, the heavy fabric of the tuxedo pants rubbing against Nicole’s skin. Nicole swallows heavily, unsure why she’s suddenly nervous.

_ Because you told her about the dance _ , Nicole thinks.  _ Because you told her the truth. And she still wants you.  _

Waverly pulls one leg up underneath her body, twisting to face Nicole. She takes Nicole‘s face in her hands, pulling her forward slowly until their noses brush. Nicole leans in the last inch, pressing her lips to Waverly‘s. The nervousness fades, replaced in her stomach by a low, warm heat. It’s the same feeling she gets when she sees Waverly at The Patch, waiting on tables and doing her best ‘smile and wave’. It’s the same feeling she gets when Waverly is stretched out on her bed, her head in her hand, her eyes closed as she listens to a song Nicole thinks she would like.

She rests her hands on Waverly‘s hips, thumbing the bones under the fabric of her dress. Waverly hums, the sound low in the back of her throat. 

Def Leppard is playing, Waverly is in a prom dress, and Nicole feels like she’s on top of the world.

One of Waverly’s hand slips down off of her face, trailing down her neck, over the knot of her bowtie and down the front platt of her shirt. Nicole feels her back arch, her body trying to get closer

The tape clicks, and turns off.

The sudden silence makes Nicole pull back, panting. She can tell her hair is everywhere, Waverly’s other hand winding through it, twisting and teasing it out of place.. She runs her fingers up Waverly’s dress, smoothing across her bare shoulders. She throws Waverly‘s hair over one shoulder, leaning into place a kiss on her collarbone.

Her other hand blindly reaches for the cassette player, hitting eject. She takes the tape out, turns it over, and starts to put it back in, not able to get it to click at this angle.

When she lifts her head, Waverly is looking right at her. There’s something in her eyes that makes Nicole’s stomach turn over. That warm feeling is back, tugging deep in her stomach.

Waverly leans back in as she slips the first button of her vest out of place, her mouth hot against Nicole’s neck as she kisses from the collar of her shirt to under her ear.

Nicole reaches down, her hands over Waverly’s. She waits until Waverly looks up and scoots back a little. “I didn’t have enough money to get a hotel room,” she admits, her face flushing in embarrassment. It was the one part of her plan that didn’t fall into place. Everywhere she tried was either booked up or overcharging for the night. The Wainwright would have cost her a whole month’s worth of paychecks, just for one night.  “I tried. I’m-”

Waverly kisses her, winding her fingers through Nicole’s hair. She pulls back after a minute, leaving Nicole panting. “Don’t apologize, okay? Someday, soon. We’ll have someplace of our own,” she promises. “Where we’re not keeping our clothes on in case your mom comes home, or listening for Gus’s station wagon in the driveway.”

Nicole nods wordlessly.

“But for now,” Waverly continues, running her hand through Nicole’s hair. “We have this backseat.” She reaches over and pushes  _ Hysteria _ into the tape deck until it clicks into place, running Side B. “And our makeout tape.”

Nicole turns the volume down as “Gods of War” starts. “If you wanted a  _ makeout  _ tape, I could have put together a list and made-”

“Can it,” Waverly murmurs, pulling her closer. She leans back a fraction of an inch. “But maybe you can make me one later. If I get to choose one of the songs.”

“Your taste in music-” Nicole stops quickly, sucking her lips in together. “We can figure something out,” she says instead.

Waverly nods towards the back of the car. “Do you want to…?”

“Yes,” Nicole sighs.

It’s not their first time in the car, and they move with practiced ease - over to one side of the bench so Nicole can fold the driver’s seat down and into the backseat. Waverly settles in Nicole’s lap, her knees bracketing Nicole’s hips as she rests her hands on Nicole’s shoulders. Nicole slips her hands around Waverly’s waist, pulling her close and stretching her neck upward, their mouths meeting in a rush.

Waverly’s body is burning through Nicole’s tuxedo. She bunches the skirt of Waverly’s dress in her hands, sliding it up until Waverly can sit a little easier and Nicole can feel the muscles in her thighs move under her palms. 

Her hands map out places she already knows, cataloging every dip of Waverly’s spine, every curve, every small perfection and imperfection. She tries to find a zipper on Waverly‘s dress as Waverly’s hands keep moving, unbuttoning the second button of her vest, then the third. Waverly doesn’t stop kissing her, hot and slow open-mouth kisses that leave Nicole feeling breathless. 

There’s not the same urgency here, not like at her house where her mom can come home any second. Not like the McCreadys’ house, where Gus is always nearby. 

It’s just them and her car, with their makeout tape playing, and an empty Lover’s Lane.

Nicole finally finds the zipper, tugging gently until it gives, then easing it all the way down Waverly’s back. She feels Waverly rock forward, her hips pressing close. Waverly gets the third button undone, her fingers climbing back up to the knot around Nicole‘s neck.

“Run Riot” starts and Nicole feels her pulse quicken. Waverly’s hands press against her neck as she tries to undo the bowtie, cursing under her breath when she doesn’t get it on the first try. Nicole covers Waverly‘s hands with her own, pushing them away gently and reaching for her own neck.

“I want to do it,” Waverly says.

Nicole squints, trying to read Waverly‘s eyes in the dim lighting of Lover’s Lane. She nods, picking up Waverly‘s hand and holding it in her own. Slowly, she moves Waverly’s hand to the small knot behind the tie, making sure Waverly’s fingertips catch on the end slip.

“Pull,” Nicole says quietly.

Waverly pulls and the bowtie unravels, hanging loosely around Nicole’s neck. Waverly sighs in relief, her hips rocking forward again. She leans down to kiss Nicole, her tongue sliding into Nicole’s mouth. 

There’s a heat between their bodies that has Nicole running her hands along Waverly’s back, savoring the cool skin, searching for some type of relief. The bodice of her dress is heavier than Nicole first thought, and when she tugs it forward it holds its shape, stuck between their bodies uncomfortably.

Waverly leans back and the bodice falls off her body. Nicole inhales sharply, her hands sliding over Waverly’s ribs to the front of her chest, her thumbs brushing against Waverly’s bare breasts. Waverly hisses, her back arching, pushing herself into Nicole’s hands.

“You want to?” Nicole asks, her whole body stilling as she waits for an answer.

Waverly nods, the movement jerky as she rocks her hips forward. “You?”

Nicole swallows heavily. “Yeah,” she breathes out.

Waverly grips Nicole’s collar tightly, tugging her head off the back of the seat. “Okay,” she murmurs, kissing Nicole.

Nicole slides both her hands under Waverly’s dress, finding the hem of the sheer black tights she’s wearing. She peels them down slowly, waiting for Waverly to lift her hips enough for Nicole to get them down to her thighs. She gets them down to Waverly’s knees until they don’t go any further, stuck in the backseat of her car.

The windows are starting to fog up, spreading from the backseat windows to the front and the windshield. Waverly is still kissing her, nipping at the bottom lip before sliding her tongue into Nicole’s mouth.

She slips her fingers under the edge of Waverly’s underwear. She feels her breath catch, the way it always does when she realizes she gets to touch Waverly like this. She still feels too clumsy, too rough,  _ too much _ for someone so soft and delicate. 

Waverly huffs into her mouth, grabbing Nicole’s hand and trying to move it where she wants it.

“Wait,” Nicole breathes out.

Waverly bites down on Nicole’s bottom lip, pulling it slightly with her teeth. She lets go with a soft  _ pop _ . “I can’t,” she whispers.

Nicole strokes her fingers along the inside of Waverly’s thigh, teasing for another minute before she slides them under the elastic of Waverly’s underwear and into a heat she can never get enough of.

“Run Riot” fades out. There’s a few seconds of silence, magnifying the soft gasp Waverly lets out as she rests her weight down on Nicole’s hand.

Nicole’s entire body jerks when “Hysteria” comes on.

Waverly groans, rolling her body forward to match the sudden motion. They move together slowly, a quiet ebb and flow as Nicole leans her head back, watching Waverly’s face. Waverly’s hands rest on her shoulders, flexing each time she rocks her body forward.

Nicole’s wrist aches, the muscles stretching past their limit as she leans her body forward for more space. Waverly’s back is arched over the front bench seat, on hand pushing her hair out of her face. Nicole’s hand is low on the small of her back for support. Waverly is rolling her body slowly, each motion long and drawn out. Nicole leans down, pressing kisses to Waverly’s stomach and as high up her body as she can reach, nipping at the muscles under her lips.

Waverly leans back over her, her body moving more unsteadily as Nicole kisses her on the mouth. Her hand slips and slides over Waverly’s curves, her skin slick with sweat. Waverly gasps into her mouth as Nicole’s thumbs brushes over a hard nipple, rolling it back and forth.

“ _ Can’t stop this feeling. Can’t stop this fire.” _

“Baby,” she manages, the word breaking as it comes out of her mouth. 

Nicole nods. She dips her head down, replacing her thumb with her mouth. She nips gently with her teeth, soothing the sting with her tongue before she moves to Waverly’s other breast. Her wrist burns now, but she doesn’t stop, meeting each of Waverly’s thrusts with her own.

The hand gripping Nicole’s shoulder tightens almost painfully, Waverly’s fingernails digging into her skin. It hurts for a moment before it subsides into an ache that Nicole feels low in the pit of her stomach. Waverly’s body picks up a rhythm Nicole struggles to follow before she catches it, each tendon in her wrist roaring as she quickens her pace.

Waverly arches forward, her whole body pressed tightly against Nicole’s, and she groans - low and long as her body tenses. 

_ “It’s such a magical mysteria, when you get that feelin’, better start belivin’.” _

Waverly pants, her forehead pressed to Nicole’s shoulder. She breathes heavily against Nicole’s neck. Nicole shivers, goosebumps spreading as Waverly breathes in and out. Slowly, Nicole moves her hand, easing it out from between their bodies as Waverly twitches a little. She runs her hands up and down Waverly’s back, humming along softly to “Hysteria” as she feels Waverly’s body get heavier against her.

Nicole stretches out along the backseat, her body already humming as Waverly hovers above her. She reaches up and trails her fingertip down Waverly’s body, grinning when Waverly’s stomach muscles twitch underneath her hand.

“No,” Waverly murmurs. “My turn.”

“ _ Clutch _ ,” Nicole breathes out. “Baby, it’s not gonna-”

“I don’t care,” Waverly insists. She works her way steadily down Nicole’s shirt, untucking it from her pants and pushing it back. She grabs impatiently at Nicole’s undershirt, sliding her hands up and under it, across Nicole’s bare skin. “Okay? Is that okay?”

“Okay,” Nicole groans, her body twitching at Waverly’s cold hands.

Waverly’s fingers are even colder when they slip under the waistband of her pants. Nicole drops her head back, letting Waverly undo the belt she’s wearing. She lifts her hips so Waverly can push them down to her knees and then she’s hovering over Nicole again, pressing teasing kisses up Nicole’s thigh. 

“I love you,” Waverly murmurs against her stomach. “I love you for coming to prom with me.”

“Love you, too,” Nicole barely manages, Waverly’s fingers dancing across the front of her underwear.

“I love you,” Waverly repeats, her whole hand pressing down.

It’s exactly what Nicole needs and she moans, the sound catching in Waverly’s mouth when they kiss.

Waverly kisses her for a minute, her hand steady and still against Nicole. Nicole eases into the rhythm of the kiss, getting her body under control just as one of Waverly’s hands rolls across Nicole’s chest and the other presses down.

Nicole’s body jerks and her hips start to rock.

Phil Collen starts his guitar solo and Nicole feels herself getting lost. 

Waverly grins against her bare chest, two fingers flat against Nicole’s underwear, steady as Nicole lifts her hips up and down off the seat. 

“Hysteria” is playing, Waverly is out of her prom dress, and Nicole feels like she’s jumping off a cliff with a smile on her face.

Waverly’s tongue swirls around her nipple and Nicole feels that low heat in her stomach unspool slowly. Waverly weighs her down, keeping her grounded, pressing her bare chest to Nicole’s as she kisses under her jaw and along her neck. Every muscle in Nicole’s body is tight and coiled, her toes curling as her hips arch off the seat. She comes back down with Waverly whispering in her ear. She doesn’t know what she’s even saying, but it’s soft and light and Nicole leans into it, her eyes fluttering closed.

Eventually, she shimmies back, twisting to give Waverly space to roll to the side. 

“Tell me again?” Waverly asks as she settles into Nicole’s arms. 

“I love you,” Nicole says. 

“No,” Waverly says. “The other thing. About your last dance _. _ ” 

Nicole feels her face grow hot. “You mean, that I always wanted it to be you?” 

“Yes,” Waverly says, her eyes fluttering closed. She smiles. “ _ That _ .” 

Nicole runs her finger down Waverly’s forehead gently, in between her eyes. “I always wanted it to be you, Waverly Earp,” she breathes out. “I never want it to be anybody else.”

_ Hysteria _ is going to end soon, and Lover’s Lane will start to fill with cars - people drinking and people making out. They’ll have to put their clothes on - Nicole will pull up her pants and push down her undershirt and leave her bowtie on, loose and undone; Waverly will peel her tights off the rest of the way and lose them somewhere in Nicole’s car, just to find them under the backseat a few weeks later. They’ll creep up the stairs at the McCreadys’ house, pausing at the top of the stairs to make sure no one heard them come in. They’ll crawl into bed and Wynonna will wake them up in the morning, jumping on them and shouting about Nicole sleeping in her dress shirt.

For now, though, Nicole sings along with Joe Elliott and Waverly presses closer into her side, and Nicole thinks how this prom night was worth the wait after all. 


End file.
